Indiana Jones and the Keys to Greece
by grim grace
Summary: In the reign of Emperor Theodosius 1, the Statue of Zeus was lost forever. Now Franklin Roberts, a retired archeologist, has been kidnapped, and his desperate grand-daughter has come to the Jones' for help. Indy/Marion. Mutt/OC.
1. A Wish From the Heart

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

_Rome, Italy, 3__rd__ August 1903_

Franklin Roberts inhaled sharply as he exited his hotel room. The view from his balcony had been astonishing, and the pictures in his textbooks had been amazing, but none of that compared to actually standing on the historical streets of Rome.

Unlike the rest of the world's most popular cities, car fumes didn't pollute the streets. Of course, there were cars driving around, but not so many that would cloud the sky with the dark exhaust gas. Franklin took a moment to revel in even_ that_ small fact.

Of all the other places that he had been to, in his life, none of them even slightly shadowed the magnificence that was the capital city of Italy.

Venice was amazing, with the canals and the boats, and Florence was breathtaking with all the Renaissance Literature. But the grandeur of the cobblestone streets, and the monuments that outlived the majority of the rest of the world were just too much to be ignored.

Rome was almost _too_ amazing.

Franklin had been planning this trip since his first year in college. His studies to join the profession of archaeology were paying off now. Finally, he was out of the classrooms and the libraries. He was in the real world, standing in the presence of some of the most amazing historical monuments in the world.

When his plane had touched down, about two o'clock in the afternoon of the previous day, Franklin had been too tired and jet-lagged to really pay any attention. As soon as he had reached his hotel room, he fell into a sleep from which he could not be disturbed. But the long hours he had spent sleeping now paid off.

The other Tourists— American, English, Chinese, Japanese and more— they were all walking around looking as though if they lay down, they would pass out. As they took photos and tours around Rome, it was easy to see that they weren't really registering exactly _where _they were.

Franklin would not permit that to happen to him. He saw everything in Rome with perfect clarity. He could see the clear contrast between the sky and the clouds. He could see the restored parts of the old buildings. And he could see the parts that had been there since the start of Rome.

"So Frankie, where to?"

His travelling companion, Thomas Jackson, was not so _shocked_ by the presence of Rome. He was here, quote, for the "Beautiful Italian women that walked around in all that leather." While that approach to the Historical city was less than what Franklin had expected, it was easy enough to ignore.

"The Trevi Fountain? Colosseum?" Franklin couldn't really choose between all of the options. They were all so fabulous. Everyone said that they were fabulous. How did you choose between the most famous places in the world?

"Which one has the most babes?"

Franklin threw his friend a dry look. Rolling his eyes he looked down at his map again, trying to make the proper decision. "Why can't you figure it out?" He muttered, not really focusing. The Colosseum had seen great warriors meet their match. It had held thousands of spectators, there solely to watch men walk out to their deaths. What was the downside of that?

But on the other hand he could go to see the wonderful alluring _Trevi Fountain?_ The fountain that held the coins of all those wishful souls, it was The Fountain that inspired hope in so many people? The evidence of the blinding faith lying beneath only about a foot of water. It was basically the fountain of faith. How could one not want to visit that?

"Let's go to the fountain." Thomas said decisively.

Franklin turned an incredulous eye to his friend, "On what basis?" He asked.

Thomas shrugged, "The fountain? It's beautiful, peaceful, _and _grants wishes. It's practically walked straight out of a fairytale. If a girl had to choose between that and a place where people were brutally murdered, which do you think they'd choose?"

Trust Thomas to make the decision based on the ratio of woman.

"Don't you think that's rather—" Franklin inhaled deeply. Best to just go with what Thomas suggested. He would ever been able to make the decision himself, and this way he had a clear path. The ultimate goal at the end remained the same, no matter what had inspired his friend to make the decision.

"Alright then," Franklin changed his sentence, "Trevi Fountain."

Thomas grinned at Franklin's conformity. "Excellent." He muttered. "Lookout ladies, I'm coming."

He strode briskly down the cobblestone rode with a distinct jump to his step. Franklin rolled his eyes and shook his head, but smiled at his friend's retreating back. Stowing the map in his back pocket, he followed his friend down the road.

The two young men walked down the streets of Rome, purposely putting their discussion of women behind them. At that moment, they were there for Rome. Well, Franklin was, Thomas not so much. But Franklin wasn't going to let his friend's odd ways effect the holiday that he had been looking forward too ever since he started studying archaeology.

When the two reached the fountain, neither of them was disappointed. Franklin's eyes were instantly drawn to the fountain that had heard so many people's innermost desires. Thomas, on the other hand, was only thinking about his desires.

"_Ciao_…" He said with a smirk, leaning up against the side of the nearest building to grab the attention of another woman. She stared at him for a second, before a large blonde man walked up and pulled her away from him.

"Charming…" Franklin muttered under his breath as Thomas walked past him. Thomas just winked at his friend and made his way, this time, to a pretty young blonde.

Franklin knelt down in front of the fountain. Even at that moment, a small girl was throwing her own coin into the water, whispering something under her breath. Franklin looked away quickly, feeling as though he was almost invading. That little girl was asking the fountain for what she wanted most in the world.

It wasn't his place to stare.

His gaze remained stuck on the ground. He didn't want to look up again. He felt that being here, just listening to every one else wish for their desires, was too personal. He hadn't even wished for anything himself. He was only here for the historical aspect.

Wasn't it ridiculous to wish for something that would never come true?

Waiting for the luck that would never come?

At that moment, he looked at the old Roman gods who stood up in the middle of the clear water, waiting to grant those wishes, to give that luck. Even looking at them felt too personal. He averted his eyes for the third time.

He ran his fingers across the old stone that made the walls of the fountain. That had been there so long. So many people must have touched the exact same place he was touching. A glint of sunlight from beneath him caught his gaze.

Franklin looked closer at the floor, studying what could have caught the sunlight like that. He stared at the dirt that had been caught in the thousands of people's shoes and come onto the stone. He blew a bit of it away, and then brushed some more of it away with his fingers.

"Oi, Frank!" Thomas called out, "What are you doing?"

Franklin ignored him. He stared at the floor beneath him. Embedded _in between_ the stones were three rings. They were all the same size, and all sort of scattered. The first was up to the top of one of the larger stones. To the left of a small stone beside the large one, was another ring. And beneath that smaller stone, was another part.

Franklin attempted to grab at them with his fingers, but he couldn't reach in-between the stones.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. From that he extracted a small coin, and then used it to dig between the stones. It was small enough to fit, and it also proved to be useful in levering the first ring out of the dirt.

After he managed to pull the first one out he stared at it, sitting in his palm. It was old, extremely old. Rust had formed on what was probably gold. On the outside of the ring was a tiny mosaic, depicting a man, wrestling with a lion.

_Hercules…?_

Franklin made quick work of pulling up the two other rings. He stared at them, all three of them now lying in his palm. He blew on them for a second, before stopping and attempting to analyse the other two.

They were both also decorated with tiny little mosaics. On one of them, the same man from the first was this time holding a three headed dog over one shoulder. In the third ring, the same man held the world on his shoulders.

All the tasks that Hercules had been ordered to perform.

Franklin stood to his feet, too interested in the rings to worry about invading personal moments. He held the rings up in the sun, comparing the mall figure to the face of the statue gods from the fountain. They seemed to be watching him now. Waiting to see what would happen next,

Franklin rolled the coin that he had pulled from his wallet in his other hand. Slowly, he turned away from the gods, and closed his eyes— back now to the fountain.

He threw the small coin into the water, and listened to hear it drop. The noise coming from the people all around him ensured him that he couldn't, but he still imagined watching that same coin fall into the water with a '_plop'_ and slowly sinking to rest with all the other coins.

There was an echoing slap sound, and everyone who heard it jerked in surprise. Eyes sought out the source of the slap, and people smirked when they realised that a young blonde woman had slapped a man who was talking to her. Franklin smirked because he knew that for once, Thomas was getting what he deserved.

His best friend turned red, and looked ready to hit the girl back, but thought better of it. He turned on his heel and stalked away. Glancing for a final time at he gods, Franklin pocketed the three rings and ran after his friend.

He caught up with him in a matter of minutes. "What happened?"

Thomas shrugged. "There was a bit of a misunderstanding…"

Franklin raised an eyebrow, "Bit of an extreme reaction to a misunderstanding."

Thomas shrugged. "You don't need the Details, Frank." He told Franklin this in such a tone that Franklin suddenly decided that _no, he really didn't want to know. _"Doesn't matter, she doesn't know what she's missing.'

Franklin smirked, "Oh yeah? What's she missing?'

This time is was Thomas who raised the eyebrow. "Are you joking? Franklin, please…" he scoffed. "I'm a young, good looking boy fresh out of College. What wouldn't she be missing out on?"

Franklin was about to reply with something sarcastic and ego crushing, deciding that his best friend needed it, when a thought struck him. He flinched at the idea. Then he managed to say quietly.

"Please tell me that you didn't endure College, just so that you would seem more appealing to women?" He asked his friend, finally walking with him.

Thomas didn't even bristle. "Well," He said with a shrug, "It worked didn't it?"

Indeed it did. If that _had _been Thomas's ultimate goal when he decided to go into College, then he had succeeded. Every night, Thomas would return either late at night from a nameless woman's home, or from a bar. Sometimes, he wouldn't even return until early morning. He would stumble through the doors loudly, and wake Franklin from sleep, and then begin to recount the tales form his latest 'adventure.'

At that moment, back in New York, was on specific girl who was currently awaiting his return. Usually, Thomas didn't enter into long relationships. His idea that woman could be tossed aside was highly frowned upon by all that knew of his habits. His family had no idea, and neither did the professor's at their College.

Long brown hair and sultry eyes—Kimberly was what most men would spend their lives looking for. But Thomas saw her as the latest thing. She had impressed Thomas and he had suddenly decided to break his 'no serious wooing' quota.

Franklin raised his eyes to the heavens and let out a hearty sigh. "Thomas, my friend, you will never cease to amaze me."

In direct contrast to the reaction most men would have to this remark, Thomas just laughed. "I will never cease to _amaze _you, you mean…"

Franklin shook his head instantly. "On the contrary, Thomas, I mean exactly what I said. I don't think I will ever begin to understand your strange addiction to being with _so _many women." He stared at his friend, awaiting and answer. When one didn't come, he rolled his eyes again. "Will you help me understand, Thomas?"

Thomas grinned broadly, "Of course, my good friend." He said with a smirk. He turned away from Franklin and scanned the crowd that they were walking through. Finally, his eyes found what they were looking for.

"Take for instance, that beautiful Italian woman." Thomas suggested, subtly pointing at one tall, pale woman only a few meters form where they walked. "She is so gorgeous. Would you not feel blessed for even an evening with her?"

Franklin stared at the woman, attempting to feel exactly what Thomas felt. Maybe if he knew the feeling, he wouldn't secretly hate his friend so much. But to no avail. All that came into Franklin's head when he looked at this woman were thoughts of his love, back in New York.

Franklin met Elaine Saint-Clare when he first moved to New York. After being accepted into a college there, he left his small home on the outskirts of the city to attend. She was the daughter of the man who sold him his home. She had waltzed into his life, quite literally.

He had been finalizing arrangements for his apartment with her father, George Saint-Clare, when she had exited their ballroom spinning with an invisible partner. When she had realised that her father was not alone, the blush that had tinged her cheeks had instantly enthralled Franklin, and he made no haste in asking her to accompany him to the opening evening of the College.

In fact, he planned to buy her an engagement ring here in Italy. After two years of no thought of marriage, Franklin saw it as the obvious step, to marry the woman of his dreams.

And as this faceless Italian women walked past him, he felt no lust or want for her, only a swift sweep of desire to see Elaine's face again.

He turned to Thomas. "I felt nothing." He said bluntly.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "You're so proper, Frank." He decided, just as blunt. "You've got to learn to cut loose."

**xXxXx**

_New York, America, 4__th__ February 1954_

Franklin had never been brave enough to go to funerals. They were too sad. They signified the finality for the person's loss. If he went to funerals, then it sealed the deal— he would never see those people again.

It was truly a sad thing that the first funeral he _had _to attend was that of Molly Jane Roberts, and her husband Richard Timothy Jenkins. Those were the names on the church doors. Those were the names that would mark their graves. But Franklin had never known them by that name.

He called them Daughter, and son-in-law.

He was an old man now. But his daughter wasn't. She was only Forty-eight. That was too young for a person to be ripped form the world.

Franklin felt the pain of the loss with insane clarity, despite his age. Almost his entire remaining family, taken in one clean sweep. His family had once been so big.

He had returned to New York, after his holiday in Rome, and instantly proposed to Elaine. She had accepted and their wedding was one of the largest that anyone had ever seen. They had been happy newly-weds, honeymooning in Venice for two weeks, before returning. Elaine announced she was pregnant a year into their marriage, and Molly was born.

Franklin had been the proudest man on earth that day. He was married to one of the most important people in the world. The one woman he loved in this entire world loved him back and how they both shared a child, who would grow to be just as fabulous as her mother.

Molly grew to be just as talented as expected. She went to her own female college, and studied medicine to become a nurse. She did and worked at that hospital for the rest of her life. Franklin had watched as his daughter had fallen in love with Richard, and he in love with her.

He was shaking as he walked down the aisle, his even more nervous daughter hanging onto his arm. He wasn't ready to hand away his baby to another, but at that moment, he saw the look Richard had for his daughter and had known she would be safe. It was a look of pure adoration—the same look he had worn when he had watched Elaine Saint-Claire walk down he aisle to him.

"I love you, Daddy." She had whispered in Franklin ear, before turning and looking at the man she was binding herself to. Franklin took his seat, and had to refrain from crying as his own wife clutched hysterically at his still shaking hand.

On her twenty-first birthday, Franklin gave those rings, the three that he found in Rome, to her. She wore them whenever she could.

It was by simple chance that she wasn't wearing them during the car trip that inevitably ended her life. Franklin didn't even know where they had been heading. All he knew was that their plane had encountered technical difficulties while flying over the rural part of Australia. He knew that Richard had been killed instantly on impact. He also knew that Molly had been alive, for at least three minutes, and while the emergency services made their way to the crash site, she had passed.

Franklin also knew that the distraught fifteen-year old girl sitting beside him was now in his care. His daughter had trusted him enough to leave her own daughter under his protection. Katerina was almost exactly like her mother as she grew up. Smiling, energetic and loud, Kat lived for the adventures she could find in her back yard.

As she grew up, Kat turned into Kitty. Of course, she was always Kat to him, but everyone else began to call her Kitty. Richard and Molly had been less than impressed when Kitty, at fourteen, came home with her first boyfriend. The boy was rude and impatient, and the two parents had revelled in watching, three weeks later, as Kitty slapped him across the face.

He wasn't quite sure if he could raise her from fifteen though. Those years had been the most difficult with Molly, and it was Elaine who had managed to keep them all on good terms. Franklin felt a pang of loss for his wife.

In the middle of the war, they were in London. And the bombs had taken her life. Hers would have been the first funeral he attended, but she had known of the deep-set hatred Franklin held for the things. She had requested in her Will that they don't give her a funeral, and simply cremate her without a service. Franklin and Molly and a six-year old Kitty had been the ones to scatter her ashes in the canals of Venice, just like she had asked.

Franklin could barely stand at that stage. The cold reminder of the last time they were her—newly married and young— was almost too much for him. But he had managed, and endured for Elaine. And now, he would persist with this new challenge.

**xXxXx**

_Rome, Italy, 27__th__ May 1958_

Staring at Rome for the second time in his entire life, Franklin Roberts couldn't help but think that it had faded. With Kitty now Twenty-One he had too much spare time. And despite his age, Franklin had decided that he couldn't stay in New York for to long alone, otherwise he might just go insane.

So he let his archaeology come forward again, and returned to Rome. The rings that he had found here last time, that had been his daughters until her death, were now safely on Kitty's fingers. When he gave them to her, it was a way for her to stay close to her mother.

Franklin had expected Kitty to go to College, and she hadn't disappointed. She had been accepted into the same college that Franklin had attended, which had come as a shock, because Franklin hadn't taught that girls could get into the college. It wasn't as though he wasn't proud of her. He was extremely proud.

She still lived with him, in the small apartment that had seen Franklin through his entire life. The memories from that place sometimes became too much for the both f them, but neither of them ever thought about moving. Those memories were some of the most intimate— Molly growing up and maturing, Franklin growing up and maturing, Franklin's marriage with Elaine. Those memories weren't meant for someone who would come in and strip the walls of their old wallpaper.

She was there now, by herself. But Franklin trusted her to be there alone. The five years that they had spent together, they had come to rely on each other fully. They had both endured the same losses, even if they dealt with it differently.

Franklin couldn't bring himself to return to the fountain. With a sigh, he turned around, intending to head right back into his hotel.

He jerked in surprise as a hand was clasped over his mouth. Smells of toxins from the handkerchief that covered his nose were over powering, and Franklin attempted to struggle he felt himself weakening. The hands were tight, already pulling him somewhere.

As the blackness over came him, he heard a vaguely familiar voice.

"You're going to help us, Roberts…"

**xXxXx**

**A/n: **Hey. It's Grace and she's back. I hope you guys (who have actually been bothered to read the authors note) are satisfied with the way this story is going to go.

I wasn't sure if I should start this fic, and let it become another of the fics that just sit in my profile completely untouched for ages. But I decided that it would probably be a good way for me to get over the horrible writers block I'm suffering with all other stories.

I hoped you guys all liked. I like it. The rest of the fic is centred more on Kitty than on Franklin, although he is still a very prominent character. Please Review and tell me what you thought.

Cheers.

Grace::


	2. Birthday Presents a Problem

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

_**Kitty**_

"Come on, Kitty, you only turn twenty _once _in your life."

I raised my eyebrow. "Doesn't that apply to all other birthdays as well?" I asked smirking.

Nancy fumbled with the phone that was in her hand. It fell to the ground with a clatter and she hastily bent over to pick it up. "Whatever, wet rag," She muttered. "It's your loss. Scott's been planning this bash since forever, and you're just going to flake out on us."

I don't really know what I was expecting for my birthday. I mean, there were the obvious potential gifts: money, a car and maybe even clothes from my parents. I mean my friends could get me whatever. We could go over seas or we could go to some sort of 'group of friends' holiday.

I mean it wasn't as though I expected anything from my parents. They had died five years, ago and I had already fully dealt with it. It wasn't as though I would waltz around wishing that they could give me a present or at leats a message from beyond the grave. Sure, I was like that in the beginning, but not anymore.

Now? I was happy.

I lived in a small little two bedroom high-rise apartment in the middle of New York. Franklin, my Granddad, who had been my legal guardian for the three years between my parent's death and my eighteenth birthday, still lived with me. He was, and always had been, my rock. He kept me stable when I felt the full force of my parent's departure.

The apartment was empty at the moment.

Franklin retired from his job as head of Archaeology at NYU and he was taking a well-deserved holiday in Rome. He had offered to take me along as well, but I had declined. As much as I would have loved to spend my birthday with him, the promise of a crazy party made only for me was too promising.

Not to mention, Franklin was only in Rome to do more 'recreational' archaeology. When he left he told me that the purpose of his expedition was to go back and finish things that had had unintentionally started back in his gap year after school.

I fingered the rings around my fingers that had once been my mother's. She loved the rings, and I intended to do exactly the same. I _did_ do exactly the same. These rings were fabulous. Franklin gave the rings to my mum when she was twenty-one. And when she had died Franklin decided that I should have them.

"Hey Kitty…" Nancy sighed, skiving off the party idea. "You got some mail."

I frowned and looked over at her. My hands were preoccupied, still folding washing and putting it away in my own cupboard, but I could clearly see the large stack of envelopes that Nancy held. "Oh…" I said, a little distractedly. "Right… can you put them over there?" I nodded my head at my bedside table.

Nancy went down to my bed, but instead of putting them down, she bean flicking through them. I rolled my eyes but focused on separating my shirts from my pants. "Like wow, Kit…" Nancy said excitedly. "You got something from _Rome._"

I rolled my eyes as I stowed the last of my clothes away. "Nancy. It's not some sort of exciting drama. It's from my _grand-dad._"

Nancy looked disgusted with herself and flung the envelope down on the mattress, away from her. I scowled at her, and bent over to pick it up. "Stop being a _spaz_." I said to her with a frown. "He's my Granddad."

I thought back to Franklin, hoping hat he never found out what my friends thought of how I lived with him. They thought he was some sort of freak. But I needed him. He was my connection to the normalcy that everyone else around here got.

"It's freaky, Kit." Nancy decided with a shake of her head. "He's like sixty…"

I scowled at her. "Cut the gas." I told her angrily. "I'm not interested."

Nancy rolled her eyes but stopped talking about it. She found a magazine that I had a subscription to and eagerly ripped it open. I rolled my eyes with a frown, flipping the letter from Italy over in my hand.

Sure enough, I recognised my granddad's untidy scrawl. I smiled as I opened up the letter waiting to hear about the latest discovery.

As I read through the letter my eyes widened. My granddad wasn't talking about his latest discovery, or a new idea that had struck him. This was way more intense. This was much more than any letter I had gotten from him before. His writing was so untidy because he was excited and had to get it all out on paper. It was untidy because he had no time, and _had _to find a way to mail this letter.

I began breathing faster, and my hands began to shake. Nancy turned to look at me. "Hey, you okay, Kit?" She asked me.

I nodded hurriedly. She seemed to brush off her momentary concern looking back at her magazine.

Thoughts whizzed through my head and I quickly went over the letter again.

_Kat,_

_I don't have much time, so this letter will be brief. But I hope you understand. I've only just managed to get out of there and I know that they're onto me. You need to do everything that I say, specifically. _

_You need to run. You need to get out of the apartment. Find Dr Henry Jones. In this envelope there are two other things. One of them is a map, and another letter. Give them to Henry; he'll know what to do. _

_I'm sure he'll be able to look after you. But you have to get out of New York. _

_I love you, and stay safe. _

_Granddad. _

_PS— if you see __anyone__ looking suspicious, get out of there as fast as you can. _

This was unreal. This was crazy. This was ridiculous. This was—

"Yikes, Kit." Nancy's voice sounded worried now. "What the heck is in that letter?"

I realised what I must have looked like. A shivering, quaking, unsteady and probably pale mass of insecurity. I jumped at her voice and stared at her with wide eyes. "Uh…"

She got to her feet, discarding the magazine. "Hey…" She said, standing up and steadying me with her hands. "You alright?"

I coughed slightly, shaking my head. I blinked a couple of times, her concerned face swimming in and out of focus. Finally, it stopped and all I could see was her. "Sorry…" I stammered quickly. "I just… Granddad surprised me, that's all."

Nancy frowned slightly, in disbelief, but she forgot it quickly enough. "I'm sure it's not that bad. How did he surprise you?" She asked.

I shook my head. I needed to get out of this house. "Where's that party for my birthday, again?" I asked changing the subject.

Nancy noticed this, and her eyes narrowed slightly, but she ignored it. "It's a Bonfire Bash for you. It's on the basketball courts on Campus. They got permission to do it, because they don't think anything's going to happen."

I nodded. A bonfire seemed like a good distraction. I nodded, and reached into my closet. I pocketed the envelope and all its contents, in my jacket and turned to Nancy. "It'd be a waste if we didn't make an appearance."

Nancy let out a squeal of excitement. "Oh! Kitty!" She exclaimed, jumping up and down for a second. "It'll be _unreal_." She promised me. "I swear."

I smiled at her, and let my hands rest in my jacket pockets, my fist clenching around the letter. "Let's go?" I suggested.

Nancy shook her head. "Give me a second!" She said hastily. "I look horrible!"

I couldn't help but smile as she hurried to straighten her skirt and do her hair again. She disappeared in my bathroom, slamming to door. I pulled out the envelope again, staring at it. It was probably just my granddad worrying. He was convinced that Nazis and Communists were everywhere.

He was probably just over reacting. It'll be fine.

**xXxXx**

"Hey baby…"

A warm arm snaked around my waist and I grinned up at my boyfriend, Scott. Blonde, tall and Captain of the Football team—he was all mine. I hadn't rally had time to talk to him. Since arriving I found myself bombarded by people I barely knew presenting small gifts. He had been there the whole time, but I hadn't really had time to say hello.

"Hey…" I said with an excited grin, turning to face him.

He grinned down at me, his finger playing with my jacket collar. "You still wearing my jacket?" He said grinning. I smiled fondly at him, pulling the jacket tightly around me. It was his team jacket, the one that signified he was in the team. But it looked better on me.

Or so he told me.

"Obviously." I grinned up at him.

He leaned down and I felt his breath on my ear. "It looks better on you…" he whispered.

I grinned, "Of course." He laughed and pressed a swift kiss to my lips. I grinned at him, before turning back to our friends. He kept his arm slung over my shoulder, and I leaned into him.

"So Kitty…" Another of Scott's friends, Brad, grabbed my attention. "What did you get?"

Everyone looked on in interest, but I flushed. "Not much." I said with a shrug. "I mean, it's just me and Franklin, and he's in Rome right now. I got some stuff from you guys…" I motioned to the pile that they had given me when we arrived.

There were a couple of fashion shop vouchers, a whole lot of jewellery and a couple of more meaningful presents. Scott got me a picture of the two of us, framed, and Nancy got me a large plastic box of beauty products.

"You mean old man Franklin, didn't get you _anything_?" Brad said with an incredulous look at Scott.

I shrugged. "It's not that bad. He's on holiday, that he _deserves."_

Scott shook his head. "It's your Twentieth birthday, Kitty." He said. "Your granddad should have time to get you something."

"He offered to bring me with him? And he's buying me something in Rome." I offered meekly, hoping this would satisfy the piranha like people I called my friends. They were eating my Granddad alive, and it had to be stopped.

"Nah…" Nancy said, "Her grandad sent her a letter."

I winced, and my hand— still in the jacket pocket— tightened around the envelope.

"A letter?" Brad echoed. There was a round of laughter. Comments like, 'that's thoughtful,' and 'how gracious' filled the air and I felt the desire to get out of there. Scott felt me tense and he rubbed my arm comfortingly. But that didn't stop him from adding his own sarcastic remark.

"Be nice, guys…" He said with a sigh. "The guy is old. Maybe that was thoughtful in the Dark ages."

I pushed his arm off me, with a scowl. The boys who saw this let out more remarks. Scott frowned, "Aw, come on, baby?"

I frowned. "Get bent!" I shouted at them. "Guys. He's my granddad. He's the only person in my family I have left. So if you could stop being such _jackasses_ it would be heaps appreciated."

Nancy nodded and came to my rescue, wrapping her arm around me. "Yeah guys. She freaked out enough as it is, when she got the letter. She doesn't need you guys adding fuel to the fire."

Ah. Nancy. Thank you for that.

"Freaked out?" Scott echoed. "What about?"

Nancy shrugged. "She didn't tell me." She turned to me with a concerned frown. She obviously didn't know what she was doing. "What was it?"

I told myself she wasn't doing this on purpose. But it was a bit hard after looking around the circle of people, Scott, Brad, Nancy, Megan, Tallulah, Karen and Brian, Todd and more. I opened and closed my mouth trying to figure out an answer, while they all waited silently for my response.

"Kitty…?" Scott said slowly.

"Well..." I was cut off.

By a revved up engine spinning around the corner and coming across the grass at such a high speed, I was pretty sure it wouldn't stop. Suddenly, the dancing and the laughing stopped and all I could hear were screams and raised panicked voices. And everyone around me began to run in the havoc that this single car was creating. Then the car stopped in the middle of the grounds.

"What the—?" Scott said angrily. He exchanged a murderous look with his friends: Brad, Brian, and Todd. Then he scowled back at the car. "This guys cruising for a bruising. No one crashes my girl's birthday party."

They began to march away, ready to teach this person a lesson. Despite the initial anger at his insulting my grandfather I clutched at his sleeve. The car was revving again, ready to move. "Scott…" I warned trying to stop him.

He brushed me off.

Then he stopped dead.

The car had started moving again, and was now facing us. The lights turned on, and everyone in the light blinked at the sudden brightness. And then the car revved for one more time. And then accelerated.

"MOVE!" Scott shouted, spinning around and grabbing my arm, pulling me out of the way of the car and onto the grass. I watched in horror as the car didn't stop, and Nancy only just managed to dive out of the way. Todd caught her before she hit the cement of the basketball court.

Megan wasn't quite so lucky. The car hit her legs and she flipped, flying into the air before she landed on the bonnet of the car.

She let out a petrified scream, and everyone around stared in horror. When she didn't move from the bonnet, Brian ran to her side and pulled her off.

"Meg…?" He whispered urgently. She moaned.

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. She was alive. The only thing that was wrong was how her leg was sort of sitting at an odd angle.

The car door opened and Brian began shouting. "What the hell are you on?" He demanded angrily. "You've broken her freaking _leg._" He stopped talking there though.

Out of the car stepped three burly looking men, all in dark black trench coats.

"We're looking for Katerina Roberts." One of them finally said.

I felt Scott's hand instantly tighten around mine. I stared with wide eyes at them.

It wasn't alright. My granddad hadn't overreacted. He had totally been serious when he told me to run. I should have run. I should have gotten out of the there as soon as I read that letter. Now as I stared at their men's face, cold and hard, the petrified fear that flooded me didn't even permit me to breath— let alone run.

"That is her." The one who exited the left of the car said, lifting one of his fingers to point at me.

I stared at them, waiting to see what they'd do. Scott seemed to notice this. "What do you want with her?"

"She will come with us." The man said. "There will be no questions asked."

Scott pushed me behind him. "Run." He whispered to me.

But I couldn't move. I could only stare at these three men who obviously already had my grandfather.

"You come with us _now._" The man ordered. Then he reached into his trench coat and we caught sight of a gun.

"RUN!" Scott shouted at the top of his lungs. The urgency in his voice or maybe the sight of the gun pushed my senses into hyper drive.

In a matter of millisecond I had spun on my heel and was sprinting away. I wanted to turn my head and look back, to see exactly what was going on.

"Get her!" One of the suits shouted, and then there was a gun shot, and I couldn't even think of anything except, '_please don't let that be Scott.' _And '_gotta run. Gotta Run.'_

I ran past the buildings of Campus before I could even consider where I was going. I could hear the heavy breathing of whoever was running behind me, but it wasn't as though he was slowing down. In fact, he was probably one of those evil henchmen who have no problem with one-hundred mile sprints.

I ran into the college courtyard, and disappeared into the trees that they had planted in order to 'give us a place to be clam and collect our thoughts.'

It wasn't working. I wasn't calm at all as I ran around all of those trees. The only good thing about these trees was that I was quickly loosing the man. I continued to run full sprint through the trees, faintly aware of the now ringing police bells. Someone must have heard the gun shots.

Finally I slowed down, needing to catch my breath. When I actually caught my breath, managing to slow my heart I heard the guy's heavy footsteps coming my way.

Spinning around to see where the guy was, I realised that I couldn't see him anywhere, so I attempted to climb one of the nearest trees. After managing to find a suitable foothold, I hauled myself into the tree, and waited, not breathing for him to come into view.

Sure enough, the guy ran into my view in a couple of seconds. He stopped suddenly beneath the tree, trying to figure out which way I went after that. He wasn't even breathing hard, just looking around with narrowed eyes.

I let out a breath, a sigh of relief, before I could help myself. I clapped my hands over my mouth but the damage was done. The man looked right up at me and I let out a loud scream. "She's over here!" The guy shouted.

Oh great. He's calling his buddies.

I tried to figure out whether or not I should jump to the ground and get caught, or wait up here to get caught. I couldn't make up my mind until I saw him beginning to climb the tree. Much faster than I had done.

I let-out a yelp and then stood up. The branch was very small, and this probably wouldn't work, but hey— worth a shot?

I ran along the branch, hitting my face on the twigs and leaves of the higher branches. My feet would slip every time. But I would catch myself with the next step before I could fall. And then I didn't catch myself and I was falling.

I lifted my hands above my head to shield myself as I hit the ground. My back ached, but I could still hear the shouting of the burly men. I pushed myself to my feet, groaning I began running again .This time I ran to the streets.

Our school was situated in the middle of the city of New York. Couldn't that mean that maybe if I could get in the view of people on the road they would stop running after me? I urged myself forward, only second away from the road.

Then that same black car pulled up right next to where I was running.

I let out a little scream and turned, running down the sidewalk. I bowled past the people who were still out late. Exclamations of shock came from all of them, but I could hear that one specific car driving behind me.

The people seemed to realise pretty soon what was happening, especially as the two other suits ran quickly after me. They didn't seem to know what to do, so they just stood there, motionless. Not helping me, but not helping them as well.

'_Run, run, run, run_…' I chanted in my head. I could faintly see the entrance to one of the underground trains. I let out a gleeful laugh and ran down the stairs. I ran past everyone down there as well, more shouts of confusion. Before the guards could stop me, I had leapt over the ticket barriers, and was already in one of the trains.

The guards who had missed me, noticed the suits, and seemed to decide that they had missed me, and these guys wouldn't get through. The train doors shut and I watched excitedly as we began to move away from the platform.

I dropped my heaving and aching boy into one of the spare seats, breathing out a sigh of relief. I stared up at the sign, trying to figure out where I should get off. And what the heck I would do next.

I felt in my pocket the envelope that Franklin had sent me.

I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. I re-read the note for me, but it didn't leave any extra clues. I reached into the envelope again and pulled out the two remaining slips of paper inside.

The first one that I unfolded was a map. A map of Italy. It looked completely normal. I couldn't see what was wrong about it. Written on the side of the map was a small sentence. "_Three strikes from god shall mark his bed_."

Okay. Whatever _that_ means…

I reached for the other piece of paper. My granddad had written _Dr. Henry Jones_ on it, but maybe it would help me find the guy. Plus, I think I _deserved _to read it.

_Indy. _

_I'm sorry about this. I know I haven't spoken to you in years. By now, if you're reading this letter, than Kat's found you. I'm asking you as an old friend to keep her safe. She's all I've got left, and I need her to outlive me. No one else has. _

_I'm in Rome. I've stumbled onto something bigger than I thought, and I don't think I'll get out of it for a while. It started years ago. I've sent you everything that I've found so far just so that the people who are after me don't get it. If they did, there would be extreme consequences for all of us. _

_Thanks, Indiana, for doing this. Keep the clues safe, but keep my granddaughter safer. You were one of my best students, and one of my oldest friends. _

_Look after her, and look after yourself. _

_Franklin Roberts. _

I had to read and re-read this letter at least three times before I finally understood it. Or, really grasped what it was about. Indiana? Was that some sort of nick name? I felt the compulsion to cry when I stared at his words, 'I need her to outlive me.' But I didn't. I wouldn't get that emotional.

So Henry Jones was one of Franklin's old students.

I jumped when the train stopped. Hastily, I packed up all the letters and the envelope and got out of the train. I kept my head bent as I followed the rest of the passengers out of the station. I looked around for any suspicious looking creeps.

I couldn't find any.

I stowed the letters back in Scott's jacket pocket and made my way to the nearest pay phone. I hastily called Nancy's house. As soon as she picked up she began spazzing out about what had happened after I left.

"I'm coming over." I said, interrupting her. "Tell me everything when I get there."

**xXxXx**

**A/N:** Okay. Second Chapter. As I said in the Authors note at the end of last chapter: The rest of the fic will be Kitty Central. It will also be in her POV.

I just have a little notice for flamers, just before we continue: I hope you like this fic, I really do. But if you flame it, I hope you don't think it will make a difference. Flames are used to tan my pale legs, and that it all.

Of course, you can have your opinions, but if they're rude or demeaning, then for god's sake _keep them to yourselves. _

Thankyou.

Now please, review!

Grace.


	3. Goodbyes and Hellos

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

"Damn, Kit." Nancy exclaimed with a loud sigh. "I thought you were a goner."

She pulled me into her apartment, and into a tight hug. Then she leaned back and looked at me. "You look like a piece of crap."

This is why she's my friend.

She hurried me into her own room, and I waved slightly at Karen, who was sitting on their lounge hugging her knees to her chest. Nancy and Karen had shared their apartment since forever. As soon as she saw me, she turned the TV off, and hurried after us.

"Do you know what they wanted?" She asked instantly.

Nancy was more preoccupied with fixing my hair. She was currently plucking leaves from it muttering under her breath. I shook my head at Karen. "I have no idea. All I know is that it was bad." Karen nodded, and sat down next to me, fidgeting nervously with her hands.

"What happened to Meg?" I asked anxiously, worried for the girl who I'd like to call my friend.

"Broken Leg." Nancy said. "Apparently it could have been a whole lot worse, but her parents are really frosted. They don't think she'll be able to cheer again. She's really rattled about it. " We all did cheerleading for our old high-schools.

I quite when I graduated, and so did Karen. But Nancy and Megan stuck to it.

"I heard a gun shot…" I said quietly, almost dreading to hear the answer.

Nancy and Karen both exchanged a look. "It got Scott." Karen finally said quietly.

My stomach literally dropped through me. It swooped and I felt like I was about to vomit. Scott was dead. Scott was dead. Scott was _shot. _Because of _me. _I must have paled or something because Nancy and Karen both shouted out, "No!"

I jumped, startled, staring up at them.

"He's not dead." Nancy reassured me. "He just got shot in the arm." I let out a sigh of relief, and felt some of the colour return to my cheeks. "But he's out of the season. He's pretty pissed." She let that trail off but I knew what it meant.

It wasn't just me who blamed me for what had happened.

It would seem Scott did too.

"Do you know what they wanted?" Nancy was the one to ask the question this time. She obviously wasn't listening when Karen asked.

I shook my head again, feeling a headache coming on. "I really don't know, Nance." I sighed pressing my open palm to my forehead. I spotted the door to her bathroom and stared at it. "Can I have a shower?"

Nancy's eyes flicked to her bathroom, then to Karen and then she nodded. I suddenly thought of Franklin's words— _if you see __anyone__ looking suspicious, get out of there as fast as you can—_but I pushed the thought out of my mind. "Sure." Nancy said breezily. "You know where it is."

I stood and walked to the bathroom, wincing. I stripped my clothes off and examined myself in the mirror. Sure enough, bruises littered my body. None on my face and arms, but all over my chest, stomach and back. My legs had some on them as well and my feet felt as though they were on fire.

The worst were probably from falling from that tree, but some of them were from when I forced myself to run so fast that I'd run into people. I'm pretty sure I stretched a couple of muscles as well, especially when I jumped over that ticket thing.

The hot water of their shower was refreshing on my shoulders. I could feel the grime from everything washing off me, and the dirt and sweat from all that running was just rolling down the drain. I washed my hair quickly, and wrapped it up in a towel. Then I stepped out of the shower and was about to get dressed when there was a knock on the door.

I froze. Was it the suits? Had Nancy and Karen decided that I was the bad guy?

"Yes…?" I stammered.

"Hey Kit." Nancy pushed the door open a bit and stuck her hand through. She held a pale pink satin jacket, a black circle skirt and a scoop neck blouse. She also had white shoes for me. "We figured that if they're looking for you, they're looking for you in those clothes. So here are some of mine."

I smiled at her hand, taking the clothes. I felt the pang of guilt as I realized that I had mistrusted the girl who I called my best friend. "Thanks Nance." I said quietly.

"Don't have a cow or anything…" Nancy said with a laugh. "Just take the clothes." I did. I put them on and smiled at my reflection .The low cut top showed the top of one of the bruises on my shoulder, but I shrugged. I didn't have a hair tie, so I let it sit naturally on my shoulders. The dampness dripped onto my shoulders, so I covered my shoulders with a towel.

I exited the bathroom to see Karen back on the couch watching the news. "They've just reported it." Nancy said from their kitchen, nodding at the TV. They were some of the first people I knew to have a TV. I certainly didn't have one.

I stared at the nameless reporter. "It was only an hour ago that college students came to celebrate the birthday of one of the students. The party was crashed violently by a car which, witnesses say, was driven by three men in their mid-forties. All were dressed in suits. If there are any more witnesses to the crime, who perhaps saw where they went, call the police and report it. You could be the one who brings these guys in."

Nancy had successfully opened the tin of ice cream that she had been struggling with. She pulled out three spoons and then headed to the couch. I followed her and sat down, reaching for a bit.

"One of the college student, Megan Marchetta, was hit by the car and is now in hospital with a broken leg. The men were also armed so we warn you not to approach them if you see them. One of the college boys who approached the three was shot, but has survived."

I sighed, waiting to hear more about it. Maybe someone had called up within seconds and the police were on their way right now.

"And onto other news, our economy—" Karen switched the TV off. I found myself hugging my knees as I stared at the now black TV. They were still out there. They were still out there, looking for _me. _They had already successfully ruined my life. What else could they want?

They had Franklin. That part I was sure of. They shot Scott, and he blamed me. Megan had been hit by a car.

And they were probably still looking to me.

"What are you going to do?" Nancy asked me, watching me anxiously.

The letter, which I had taken from Scott's jacket (which was now lying on Nancy's bed), was still in my hand. I stared at it for a second. Nancy and Karen did too.

"Isn't that…?" Nancy started.

"Franklin warned me." I said bluntly. "He said that someone was after him, and they were after me as well." Nancy and Karen exchanged incredulous looks. "He told me to go find an old friend of his, who could look after me. I thought he was yanking my chain, so I ignored it."

Nancy and Karen stared at me.

"It's my fault what happened, happened. I have to get out of here." I concluded with an angry sigh, directed at myself. "I've got to find Dr. Jones."

I sighed, racking my brains for a possible way I could do this. I couldn't call any one. I didn't have the number. I certainly couldn't ask Franklin, and I couldn't go to the police. They would be weird, and start asking me about what I did to provoke the attack.

Then it hit me. When I had looked for Henry Jones in Franklin's phone book, I had looked under J and under H. I didn't find anything. But what about his nickname? The name that Franklin called him in that note.

_Indiana? _

Would there be an Indiana Jones in that book?

"We have to get back to my apartment." I said suddenly. Nancy and Karen looked a bit nervous. Karen more so than Nancy. But Nancy still looked edgy. I hastily back-tracked. "Hey, you guys don't have to come. I'll go by myself." I stood up and grabbed my clothes, making my way towards the door.

Nancy shook her head. "Karen'll stay here. She's a bit spooked. I'll come though. Gimme a sec, I'll go grab some shoes." She disappeared into her room.

I looked over at Karen. She was grimacing apologetically at me. "I'm sorry, Kitty." She muttered.

I shrugged. "No worries, Karen." I sighed, "It's been a kookie day."

Nancy exited her room, looking ready for battle. Or… ready for running like cowards in style. "Let's go." She muttered, and then she and I were walking out her door.

We reached my apartment less than ten minutes later, in Nancy's car, with no problems. It was only when we opened the door that we encountered our first problem.

The apartment, which I shared with Franklin, had been turned upside down. The contents of every single cupboard and draw in the apartment had been thrown everywhere. The majority of my clothes lay ripped on the floor. Both our beds had been stripped and the bookshelves had been emptied. All of Franklin's most precious discoveries lay in a heap on the ground.

Most of them looked undamaged, except for a small pottery owl that had been smashed against the wall. "Oh, my God." Nancy mumbled as we stepped across the threshold. I closed the door behind us, just in case, and then made my way to Franklin's room.

Like everything else in here, the chest of drawers that the Contacts book stayed in was emptied. I was petrified, for a moment. What if they took the book? What would I do then?

"Is it there?" Nancy hissed from the other room. "Hurry up, Kit," She urged. "This is giving me the spooks."

Hear, hear.

I walked to the pile of things that had once been so organized. After digging through it for a couple of minutes, I finally found the small green leather book. I opened it to I. I let out a shout of relief when I saw, under _Imogen Thompson: _

_Indiana Jones. (Henry Junior) _

And then there was an address right after his name. Bedford, Marshall College. I let out a little squeal of glee. And ran back out into the other room. "I got it." I said excitedly to Nancy. "I'm getting in the first Taxi to Bedford."

Nancy just stared at me like I was insane.

**xXxXx**

I ended up spending the night at Nancy's and Karen's house. We all slept in Nancy's double bed, all three of us too scared to stay in separate rooms. In the early morning we woke up from a restless sleep. My muscles ached worse now, after not moving for so long.

I checked in one of Nancy's school Atlas's to see how far away Bedford was. Forty Three point three miles away. That would take a while. Especially if I took the traffic into account. I also decided that I would go and visit Scott.

We got to his bedside relatively early in the morning. It was about nine o'clock. The hospital had requested that he stay over night, just to be monitored, so when we arrived, he and his parents were planning getting him home.

I knocked on his door quietly. He looked away from his parents to me, and I saw his eyes widen. Whether it was from glee or anger or some other non-emotion I wasn't sure. Then he said, "Hey Kitty."

Nancy and his parents made themselves scarce.

"So…" He started quietly.

"You took a bullet for me?" I asked quietly, smiling at him.

He looked a bit moody. "Didn't really think about it. It was pretty stupid."

Huh. That's chivalrous.

"You okay?"

He gave me a very sarcastic look. Then he sighed at my taken aback look. "I guess I'll be fine. I'm just bummed cause I miss out on the rest of the season."

I nodded, trying to understand why he didn't believe that him— and me— still being alive was in some way worse than being injured badly enough to have to stop playing football. "Well, you don't have to worry about them coming back here." I told him. "I'm leaving. Getting out of New York City and getting out of their way."

He nodded. Then he sighed, "I can't believe Brad's getting my position."

I refrained from hitting him. I'm telling him that I'm leaving and all he can think about is his goddam football? I clenched my teeth, and tried to reason with myself. He was probably a bit distracted because of the pain relief drugs they were pumping into his system.

"I'll miss you," I told him. He nodded absentmindedly.

I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before turning and leaving the hospital. I hugged Nancy tightly, before letting go and smiling. "Later." I said grimly.

She nodded. "Later."

I walked out of the hospital still thinking about Scott and whether or not he'd get better. Megan already had her cast, and I'd had a moment to tell her that I was leaving. She looked a bit relieved— can't say I blame her. So I hailed a cab and got in.

Dr. Henry Jones. You've got some 'splaining to do.

After an hour and a half of awkward conversation between myself and the taxi driver— His name was Joe, and he had a wife and two kids at home, and was only a taxi driver while their restaurant business got to it's feet— I finally arrived in Marshall College.

I exited the cab and looked around. This college wasn't like mine. In fact, it only resembled the park in the courtyard that I had only recently run for my life through. It was like that Courtyard Park, except it covered the entire campus.

"Huh…" I said slowly.

I walked up to administration. The room was empty, and quiet, just like all administration offices are. The only other people inside was a timid looking five year old who was playing quietly with a pencil and some paper, a red-headed middle aged woman who sat behind a desk, and a tall good looking boy.

The little girl and the red head lost my interest quickly. But I couldn't pull my gaze away from the boy standing in the corner.

His hair was folded back, with so much grease that it looked as though he was going to fall over from the weight of it. I could see a small comb sticking out of the pocket of his leather jacket. In his hand he was playing with a switchblade. He was flipping it over and over, catching it every time.

_Oh my…_

He turned to look at me and I hastily looked away. I heard him chuckle under his breath, and ten I was brought back to earth. Great. He was hot, and he _knew it._

"Can I help you?" The red head asked me with a kind smile.

I stepped forward, careful not to look at the boy. "Uh, yeah…" I said suddenly nervous. "I'm looking for Dr. Jones?"

The Red-head— her name tag called her Enid—nodded. "Right, and are you one of his students?"

I blushed slightly. "Uh… no." I coughed, hastily. "I'm an old family friend of his, and I need to talk to him."

She frowned slightly at my shifty made up story. "Right…" She said slowly, "And your name is…?"

"Kitty." I said quickly. "Kitty Roberts."

She nodded, and then reached down into her drawers. She pulled out a tag, which said in large letters, 'VISITOR.' "Take this, and I'll get someone to show you where his office is… If you could just wait over there I'll make a call and—"

"I can take her to Dr. Jones,"

I spun around and stared at the greaser, who was smirking at me. I raised an eyebrow at him. I didn't want to associate with a greaser. It was wrong. He should stick to hanging out with girls like him. I was strictly jock material. 'Preppies' they call us. Greasers and preppies didn't mix.

So what the heck was going on here?

Enid looked a bit shocked. It was probably because he'd most likely never offered to do anything like that before. "Thank you, Henry…" She said slowly.

_Henry? _

Talk about wrong name for a guy. What were his parents on when they named him?

"No sweat, Enid…" he said with a shrug. "I was headin' that way anyway…"

Enid frowned at the disrespectful use of her first name. Then she sighed, "Alright then Henry. But I'm going to have to confiscate that knife…"

'Henry' looked down at the switchblade. I grinned as I watched him realise he'd have to say goodbye to it. Then he shook his head, "It's not mine, Enid." He said with another 'no-care' shrug. "I borrowed it from Professor Jones. That's why I was headed that way."

Enid sighed. "Go on then," She muttered, shooing us both away with a motion of her hand. "Scoot!"

I walked out of the office before the greaser. I stared at him with narrowed eyes. "What do you want?" I demanded angrily. He was acting very suspicious, but I couldn't very well sprint out of a packed college.

He smirked, "Nothing, Doll." He said with a smirk. "Thought you wanted to see Dr. Jones?"

I stared at him, still defensive. "Well, I do…" I said trying not to sound stupid, and failing. "But why are _you_ helping me?"

He raised an extremely sexy lone eyebrow. "You got a problem with me, Doll?"

I flushed. This wasn't something that I'd had to verbalise before. It had always been a sort of 'unspoken' rule in the city. I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times. I finally settled on an answer, 'who wouldn't?' when he chuckled and walked away and I didn't have a chance to say it.

That's just rude.

I hurried after him. "Hey. You're supposed to be taking me to Dr. Jones." I protested feebly.

He shrugged. "Thought you didn't like me. What's the point in helping out someone who doesn't even appreciate it?"

I tried to get past the concept of a greaser like him saying the word 'appreciate.' "The _point_ is that you told that red head woman that you'd show me where to go. She would have gotten someone else, but you had to be a spaz and volunteer. So you have to show me where his office is." I told him.

"Sorry, baby," He said with another careless shrug. "I just don't get your logic."

I frowned. _"Why don't you tell me what sort of logic you do understand then?" _I asked him.

Or I would have asked him. If he wasn't still flipping that knife in his hands.

He kept on walking, and his stride was considerably longer than mine. I frustrated pushed my— still aching— limbs forward, so I could catch up. "Oi!" I shouted. "Nosebleed!"

He didn't react to my insult, and I scowled.

"Stop walking!" I insisted still trying to catch up.

He didn't respond.

"_Henry!"_

I expected him to keep walking but instead I ended up face to face with an angry greaser. "Hey." He said, suddenly angry. "It's Mutt. Okay? Not _Henry…_" he said the name as though he had just tasted something particularly foul.

I sighed. "Look. Can you just take me to Dr. Jones? It's a matter of _extreme_ important."

Mutt raised an eyebrow. "Extreme Importance?" He mocked me. "Really, now, doll?"

I struggled keeping my fists by my sides. I felt the impulse to hit him, but he wasn't like the guys that I hung out with. I'm sure he'd have no hesitance when it came to hitting me back. So I just nodded. "Yes." I said keeping my expression blank.

He stared at my face for a second, before turning on his heel, and stalked down the hall. I struggled to keep up with him. "Extreme importance…" he was muttering. "Stupid Jones. Dr. Henry Jones Junior."

It would seem he harboured a bit of ill-feelings towards the good professor.

Finally, after twisting and turning through the campus halls, we got to an office. ASSOCIATE DEAN: DR HENRY JONES JUNIOR.

I think I've found where I'm going. "Thank you…" I muttered, swallowing my pride.

Mutt seemed to realise how much that took from me and chuckled. "Whatever, Doll." He knocked on the door.

We waited in silence for a second before the door opened. The professor was an old man, with greying hair. He was probably an extremely good looking man back in his day, but it was easy to tell that he was getting old.

How was _he_ supposed to help me?

"Can I help you?" He asked, his eyes skimming over Mutt with something —amusement? — flashing through them and then landing on me.

"Uh… yeah." I turned to look at Mutt. "But I'd rather I spoke to you in private." I said pointedly.

Mutt let out another chuckle. "Righto." He said with a laugh. "I can tell when I'm not wanted Doll." He turned to the professor. "It would seem I'm the delivery boy, today."

The professor raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be in class?" he suggested with a slight frown.

Mutt shrugged. "Yeah. Got sent out."

Dr. Jones sighed. "Again?"

Mutt just nodded proudly.

"Using that knife of yours?"

He nodded again. The professor rolled his eyes and held out his hand. Mutt smirked and dropped the knife in his grasp. The Professor smirked. "Get back you Class."

Mutt nodded. "Right you are, Daddy-O."

He was turning to go when Dr. Jones said loudly. "Mutt? You getting a ride home with your Mother today? Or with me?"

Mutt scoffed. "I just got my bike back. As if I'm wasting any time in your piece of crap car."

I stared at them in astonishment. Since when did _greasers_ get along with _archaeology professors_?

"Alright then, son." Dr. Jones said. "See you at home…"

…

Since they became father and son, it would seem.

Sure as heck didn't see that one coming.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **Okay! So we've been introduced to some of the main characters! The ones that I didn't make up! YAY! I hope that I haven't gotten any of them out of character, and I'm really working with this 50s slang thing but I hope it's alright. I think it's alright.

Thanks for reading, but it would be even cooler if you could review as well. I'd love to get feedback.

XOXO

Grace:


	4. Me and Dr Jones

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

The professor's office was almost identical to Franklin's, back in the city. Full of artefacts that most people would see as worthless. Dirty and dusty pottery lined the shelves. Some of, what looked like, the more important things sat on his desk. Others sat in glass cases behind where he sat. Franklin's office at NYU when he worked there was exactly like this. So was his bedroom, before those suits tore through it.

"So… what can I do for you?"

Now that I was finally facing the professor, I struggled with finding the exact words. I had practised in the cab, with the taxi driver—after introduction, of course— but we had drawn a blank. I had tried, "Do you know Franklin Roberts?" and "Sup? I'm Kitty Roberts? Do you know who I am?" Joe the cab driver had suggested, "Roberts, Kitty Roberts."

Needless to say we hadn't really come up with a successful conversation opener.

"Uh…"

Dr. Jones stared at me expectantly, smiling through his glasses. He seemed to realise that I was having a problem in starting this conversation, and decided to help out.

"Please? Have a seat?"

The professor motioned to the chair on the other side of his desk. I quickly sat down, suddenly more nervous that I had thought I would be. To distract myself, I looked at the things on his desk. A small paper weight—probably not it's supposed use— made of wood. Engravings surrounded the entire thing, and when I looked at it closely, I realised that it resembled a face. The face was angry, scowling at me now.

It looked old, but I wouldn't be able to place it. Franklin would have figured out when and where it came from in milliseconds. Professor Jones probably could as well. He walked around his own desk and seated himself.

"I found that in the Amazon, in the thirties." Professor Jones told me. "Almost lost my arm finding that."

I raised a delicate eyebrow. Lost an arm?

"Yeah. Found it and then spent the next twenty hours running for my life from the ancient people who guarded it."

I nodded, trying not to look as amused as I really was. "You sound like my Granddad." I said with a smile. "He did that sort of thing."

Dr. Jones nodded, obviously interested. "Really? Do I know him?"

I nodded quickly. "I think you do. That's sort of why I'm here."

The professor frowned slightly. He leaned forward in the chair he had seated himself in and frowned. "How can I help you?"

I laughed nervously. "I've been asking myself that since yesterday." I said frankly. The professor frowned deeper, more confused, so I settled on the direct approach. "Dr. Jones, I've been given _direct_ instructions, to find you, and ask for your help."

Up til that point, Dr. Jones had been frowning confused. The frown seemed more pronounced now, and he was suddenly very serious. He nodded and leaned further forward in his chair. He scanned her faced calculatingly, before nodding.

"By who?"

I took a deep breath. "My Grandfather. He sent me this." I pulled out the envelope from Nancy's Jacket pocket. I was still wearing the clothes she had given me yesterday evening. I laid the envelope on the desk. "It's got two letters in it, one for me and one for you. And it's also got a map of Italy in there."

Dr. Jones stared at the envelope. He reached out to take it, looking for my permission to read it. "May I?" I nodded. He opened the envelope, but didn't unfold the letter. Instead he looked back at me.

"Who is your grandfather?" He asked. He was still frowning.

I took a deep breath. "Franklin Roberts."

The professor's face wiped. Blatant shock covered his face and he stared at me. "Franklin…?" he trailed off. Then he stared at me. "Franklin _Roberts?_"

I nodded. "I take it you do know him then?"

The professor's frantically looked into the letter, pulling out the three slips of parchment. He ripped open the one that had his name on it and read through it. I watched his eyes go over it so quickly it looked as though he may just faint from over-exhaustion.

"Rome…" He breathed silently, after folding the letter slightly. His eyes darted up to me. "You're Kat?"

I flinched at Franklin's nickname for me. "Kitty." I corrected him quickly. "I'm Kitty Roberts."

He nodded and then looked back at the letter. "What could he have started years ago?" He asked, more to himself than me. I shrugged anyway. I was so nervous about this that I found myself playing with the rings on my fingers. I felt connected to Franklin again, just holding the cold metal rings.

"Do you mind if I read you're letter?" He asked me.

I shook my head. "Go ahead." I invited him to do just that.

He opened my letter and went through it. I had read it so many times that I could practically remember it. The parts that jumped out from my mind at that moment? _Give them to Dr. Jones; He'll know what to do. _

I stared at him, waiting for his answer. He finished reading my letter for the fifth time before letting it drop on the desk. He stared at the letters on his desk for a minute before an idea seemed to strike him and he looked up at me.

"Kitty." He said quickly. "Has anything happened? Any suspicious people come near you? Do they know that you're here?"

I didn't even waste any time thinking about an answer.

"Yeah. Yeah it has. It was my birthday yesterday, and some friends of mine threw me a party. Half way through, three guys crashed it, and they asked for me. They hit one of my friends with their car, and broke her leg, and they shot my boyfriend in the arm. I spent the night at my best friend's house. We went back to my apartment to find your address, and they had turned my apartment upside down."

Dr. Jones looked extremely troubled now. He leaned forward urgently. "Do they know what you're here?" he repeated.

I thought back to everything that I had been through recently. Did they know I was here? I didn't know. They could have followed me all the way from the city. I wasn't really looking out for them. I was too worried about finding Dr. Jones.

"…I don't know…" I finally answered him.

Dr. Jones stood to his feet instantly, the chair scooting back quickly. He gathered up the letters and stowed them away in the envelope. He frowned, walking to his window as he pocketed the letters in his jacket pocket. He swore. "There's a black car outside. I've never seen it before. It's probably your friends."

The bruise on my back from where I had fallen from the tree throbbed, almost like a warning. "We have to get out of here." I said my voice raspy.

Dr. Jones nodded. "My wife and Mutt are still in the building. We'll get them and then we'll get out of here."

He picked up a Fedora from the coat hanger at the door and then opened said door for me. I hurried through it, nervously looking around me. "Does this mean you'll help me, Dr. Jones?" I asked quickly.

He put the hat on his head and smirked at me. "Kid, call me Indiana."

He made his way down the hallway and just like I had with his son, I hurried after him. "So… what are we doing now?"

Dr. Jones—ahem, _Indiana_— nodded down the hall. "My son, you met him earlier, he's in Chemistry class. And my wife is in the other end of the school. She's the Public Relations Officer in the Museum." He stopped walking and I had to stumble past him to prevent a collision.

"We should split up. The Museum isn't far. Go down the hallway, take the first left, and then it's the large doors at the end of _that_ hallway. Ask for Marion Jones. Tell her that her we've got a problem and we have to meet up in Room 301 on the second floor. Can you do that?"

I nodded, mentally remembering all that information. "Check." I said nodding, determinedly. "She knows where Room 301 is, right?" He just raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Right." I said, getting the picture. "Of course she does."

I turned on my heel, my face beginning to heat up. I walked down the hallway, very aware of my heels clicking on the floor. As I walked down the echoing hall I tried to imagine what the next few days would be like. I mean, it had been a day and a half, almost, since receiving that letter, and already my life was spinning out of control.

Franklin—my rock, my only family, my granddad— was probably being held captive in Rome somewhere, by the Boss-man top dog who was sending those suited goons after me.

Scott and Megan were both in the hospital—Scott, probably out by now— and I knew for a fact that they thought it was my fault. It probably was. Scott definitely blamed me; only all he could think about now was how he was out for the season. Megan, who I had seen briefly before leaving the hospital, said that she didn't blame me, but it's easy to tell when she's lying.

Nancy and Karen were both petrified of being near me. I could tell when I arrived at their place last night and when I left that morning. When I had arrived, Karen had been so worried. Jumping and fidgeting. Even Nancy didn't exchange many words with me, despite sticking by me when I went to my apartment. And when I left there was no denying the relief in both of their eyes.

And now there were these two new people in my life.

Dr. Indiana Jones had obviously been through this kind of thing before. And his story about almost losing an arm and running away from angry natives? It suggested that this thing wasn't new to him. He looked worried when I came to him with stories of kidnapping and gun fights, but he dealt with it in a collected and calm way.

And his greaser son?

If being protected and looked after by Dr. Jones meant that I had to spend more time in that stupid oaf's presence than I'm not entirely sure if I want their help. I mean, _doll? _If Scott were around to hear him call me that, he would have got a good punch in the face.

As I reached the first door on the left I checked to make sure it was the right one. I couldn't see any large brown doors. I looked around trying to see if I had the right door. 'Down the hall and to the left' that's what he had said. Those were the directions. I had walked down the hall and the first door on the left was this one.

What was going on?

I heard footsteps coming the other way, and I frowned. This person could probably give me directions. I waited patiently until I saw someone's foot step around the corner.

"Hey—I'm kind of lost. Could you—"

Oh, my god.

The person walking around the corner was one of the men in suits. "Katerina Roberts." He said gruffly, his voice echoing down the hall. "You come with me now. No questions."

Oh, my god.

Oh, my god.

Oh, my god.

I backed away from him, shaking my head slightly. I couldn't bring myself to open my mouth. My legs were only just working. The same petrifying fear from before was flooding through me. Soon, it would be in my legs and I wouldn't be able to run.

I needed to run.

He began walking towards me and I suddenly found the will to talk. I began backing away, faster now. "Hey…" I said slowly. "Can't you just ask the questions? I'll answer them. We really don't need to get into physical violence of any kind."

He just kept walking slowly towards me.

"Okay, Kitty…" I said to me, "What do you do? There's no class rooms here, but there have to be some around here somewhere. If you can get to one of those, these guys won't attack you." I thought back to by Birthday Bonfire. "Alright… maybe they will." Think! Think, Think, Think, Think, THINK! "Where did Dr. Jones go? Chemistry? Was it Chemistry?"

Oh god, Kitty! THINK!

"You will come with us. You have no choice in the matter."

I stared at him with wide eyes. "It's a free country?" I blurted out.

He ran at me.

I let out a small yelp as I saw the man once again running full pelt at me. I cursed my stupid mouth as I began to run. "Free country?" I muttered to myself. "Real genius, Kitty."

I got about ten metres down the hallway when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I stopped running suddenly and he collided with my back, and spun away from me, the momentum from his run too strong for him to stop so unexpectedly. I let out a little squeal of glee as he collided with the wall. I turned and kept on running, making it to the doors that Mutt had brought me through on the way to Dr. Jones's office.

I sprinted past the administration office, and out of the entire college. I noticed some of the other student's bikes sitting in the bike racks. I raced over to them and pulled at it. It was chained.

"Aw…" I considered the multiple swear words that I could utter and then decided that none of them were good enough. I looked at all the bikes, and pulled on them all. They were all chained there. I pulled violently on one of them. "_Come. ON!" _

It didn't budge. The front doors burst open and I saw the man in the suit.

I let out a scream and turned, running around to one side of the bike rack. He came to the other side, so the only thing separating us was the large wall of chained up bikes. He ran at me from one direction, going around to his left. I ran the other way, staying completely opposite to him the whole time. He came at me the other way now and I ran backward, ending up in the same place I had started.

He rolled his eyes and then stepped forward. He lifted one of his legs and pushed himself up on top of the bike rack, until I was looking up at him.

I let out a scream and ran around, right back through the college doors. I didn't bother to turn around and see how close he was to me. I just kept running. A bell went off, signalling the end of a class. Instantly all the doors opened, and I looked behind me just in time to watch the man collide with one of the doors.

This time I didn't stop to laugh. I just kept running, back down the hall. I skipped past the first door to the left— those instruction were obviously dud— and through the glass doors at the end of the corridor. I looked at the two ways I could go and rolled my eyes. There, to the left, were two large wooden doors and a large sign that said "_LIBRARY._"

"Kitty!" I heard a shout.

I spun around to see both Mutt and Indiana running at me. "Where's Marion?" Indiana demanded.

I stared at him. "I didn't find her!" I shouted.

He stared at me. "You had to go down the hall and to the left!" He shouted exasperatedly.

The greaser son scoffed. "Come, on, Doll. There are no simpler instructions!"

I scowled at him. "I got a bit _distracted._" I told him angrily.

"By what?" Greaser asked incredulously. "The detailed tapestry?"

"As if I'm going to look at a tapestry…" I muttered, "While some beefy guy wearing a suit, is ready to gag, bound me and send me to ROME!"

Indiana stopped suddenly. "What?"

I turned to him. "They're here. That's why I didn't get your wife. Because I ran into one of them and I figured it would be more beneficial for my _survival_ if I got out of there." I saw the suit's head appear over the top of all the college students. There was a sea of them separating us, so it

Indiana nodded. "Right. This is bad." He grabbed my arm and the Greasers and pulled us both into the Library. It was suddenly extremely quiet. I only then noticed how heavily I was breathing. I wasn't exactly what people would call physically active, and all that running and stress had gotten to me.

"Crap." Dr. Jones said, looking at me. "She looks like she's about to pass out. Make sure she doesn't fall flat on her face, will ya, Son?"

"Whatever…" I heard Mutt say.

Dr. Jones looked around. "I'll go find your mother."

"Indiana Jones, what the hell is going on?"

Greaser and I fell silent as we turned to see a woman standing, hands on hips, staring incredulously at the three of us.

"Found her." Mutt said with a grin.

**xXxXx**

We stumbled into their house half an hour later.

It had only taken that long because we had spent a majority of the time ducking down past students to hide us form the suits who were stalking around the place. It would seem that so many students went to this college, that when free period rolled around, it meant that there were a lot of them off class.

We also had to walk. We decided that taking Dr. Jones's car was too risky—how can you hide an automobile behind students on a free period— and walking we would be able to get away from them easy enough.

I was quizzed the entire walk home. What did you say to them? Why do they want you? What did your Granddad do? When did you first see them? Who do you think they are? Why did you come to us? (Indiana answered that question for Marion and the Greaser.)

I seriously felt like passing out.

Still when we arrived at the house, all three of them seemed to trust me. The greaser wasn't very happy about it, but it wasn't as though he thought I was some sort of scam artist or whatever. "Mutt, get the girl some ice, will you?"

My headache screamed triumphantly.

Dr. Jones directed me into their living room. "Lie down for a second." He ordered. Then he raised an eyebrow. "You don't do much exercise, do you kid?"

I was about to protest loudly about the yoga and Pilates that ruled my life. Then my head throbbed particularly painfully and I just let it drop back on the couch I had sat on. "Nah…" I sighed. "Not running, at least."

The greaser came out with some Ice and handed it to me. For the sake of being polite I said thankyou. He brushed me off again and pulled out a comb, once again brushing his hair. Marion walked into the room and smiled down at me. "You alright?"

I smiled, "Thank you. I'll be fine."

Dr Jones nodded. "You don't mind if I talk to my family in private do you?"

I shook my head. "Your house, your rules…" I muttered.

Dr. Jones nodded and then he, Marion and the greaser walked out of the room. The greaser pushed the door close, and it thumped loudly. My head throbbed again.

I pressed the icepack to my head, and closed my eyes. Slowly, very slowly, I noticed it slowly getting better. The throbbing began to get smaller and the pain slowly left my system. I got head aches like these a lot. After long periods of no exercise, and then vigorous activity, I would usually get a head ache like this one.

But they faded pretty fast, and if I kept the vigorous exercise up, they wouldn't come back. After lying there for about five minutes, trying to not listen to the whispering and muttering coming from the other side of the thin door, I pushed myself to a sitting position.

I looked around the room. I was in the living room—that much was obvious. The TV they owned was small, sitting to the right of the large fire place. Above the fire place was a large picture of the family, with another man. This room had another shelf in it, this one also full of what most people would call rusty of crap.

Franklin would have loved to be here.

"_What?" _I heard a shout. It was undoubtedly the greaser.

"Mutt." I heard his mother reprimand him. "Be mature. The poor girl is probably worried sick about her grandfather. We should be doing everything we can to find him for her."

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered. "But do we have to bring her along? Can't we just go and find the guy and bring him back?"

"Do you have a problem with her, young man?" Marion demanded angrily.

"Of course I do. I don't want to leave the country and go to Rome with some stupid superficial shallow _paper shaker_."

That was a bit harsh. I hadn't been a 'paper shaker' since high school. Cheerleading was too much work in college, plus who the_ hell_ would I cheer for?

Once again I tried to refrain from laughing at the long words coming from the greaser's mouth. Then I realised that I was practically proving his point and I was no longer so entertained. I made a mental note to be better than this stupid greaser. I wouldn't insult him.

"When you came to me telling me to help your mother, you were extremely worried," I heard Dr. Jones reason with him. "She's in the same place right now."

I could practically hear Mutt—ha, that's his _name._ Did he know what my name was? I think not— roll his eyes. Then the door was opened and the three for them came in. They saw me sitting up and Marion smiled. "Feeling better?" She asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, thanks for the ice."

"Come through here." Dr. Jones motioned. He nodded and followed him from the room. He pointed at a table seated for four. I sat in one of the chairs, and they seated themselves in the other chairs.

"It only just occurred to me, Kitty that you don't really have any idea who we are…" Marion said with a smile. "So, even though the time for introductions has pretty much passed, I'm Marion." I smiled at her. "This is my son, Mutt. And my Husband, Indy."

I smiled at all of them. "Thanks so much for this—"

Marion cut me off. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart." She said, "I was a good friend of your mothers. And you're always welcome."

The look on Mutt's face suggested the opposite.

"Alright Kitty…" Indy started. "What do you want to do?"

I shrugged. "I want to find my granddad. And I want things to go back to normal."

Mutt scoffed. "Right and do you have any suggestions where we should start?"

I took a deep breath, trying not to frown. I turned to Indy. "The map? In the envelope? It said something on it. I thought it might help."

Indy frowned, and then dug his hand into the pocket where he had stowed the envelope. He pulled it out and then pulled out the map. "_Three strikes from God shall mark his bed…"_ he read out loud. He looked at me, puzzled.

"You know what that means, doll?" Mutt asked.

I frowned at him. "No. But I was hoping that we could figure it out."

Indy looked down at the map. "I can't see anything different about the map. I'm sure that Franklin wrote that verse on the map before sending it. It's just a map of Italy, and a little bit of Sicily. It doesn't look like anything special."

I frowned. "Why would he send it to me if it wasn't anything special—?"

Indy shushed me. I frowned slightly. His face got closer to the map and he pushed his glasses further up his nose. Then he looked excitedly at Marion. "See?" he said. "Here." He pointed at a place on the map. "The R in Rome has been underlined."

I frowned. I hadn't noticed that.

"And the O in Napoli." He continued excitedly. He stood up and laid the map out on the table. "Come here." He ordered. "Look for letters that are underlined in the names of places." I stood up and joined the Jones in looking at the map.

Gradually we found all the underlined letters on the map.

R. O. A. A. T. N. T.

We all stared at the seven letters that Indy had written on the side of the map. "Great." I said. "What does that mean?"

"Wait." Mutt said. "It's an anagram. I bet you they'll make a word."

"What do you bet… your hair gel?" I muttered. Greasers were so beneath me. Why was I even talking to him?

Indy and Marion exchanged a smirk, and I expected Mutt to scowl at me. He just smirked a devilishly sexy smirk and said, "Why? You want some, Doll?"

I stopped smirking.

"I got it!" Indy said excitedly. "Taranto." He said, pointing at another place on the map. "They make the word, Taranto. It's a small city to the south of Italy, and it's on the map."

I frowned. "If he wanted us to go to Taranto, why wouldn't he just put that in the letter?"

Marion smiled grimly. "Kitty. Your grandfather was being chased by the same men who chased you. Maybe he thought they might get their hands on the map before we did, or maybe even after us. He didn't want it to be easy—where he wanted to go."

Indy nodded. "My guess is, Franklin found something but he doesn't want these other guys knowing about it. He took a risk sending it to you. He must have known they'd go after you. So he told you to come to me so we could figure it out before those guys who were chasing us."

There was a thoughtful silence as everybody thought about the truth in Indy's words.

"So… what now?

"Well," Indy said frankly, "We're going to Italy."

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **Fourth Chapter. Excellent. Please tell me what you thought. Once again, I'm really worried about the characteristics of the main characters. I hope I haven't made them go OOC or anything, but if I had, please tell me how you think I can fix it.

Thanks. Please review.

Grace.


	5. Cubes and Clydes

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

It took Indy about half an hour to make the correct calls to get us a flight to Italy. It wasn't a commercial flight, he told me. When I asked him why not he told me that he didn't like the peanuts they offered. When he said this, Mutt chuckled and Marion smiled fondly at her husband.

I was dealing with a strange family.

"I'll take Kitty to the store." Marion said, while Indy was making the phone calls he needed to. "She can't very well go to Italy in those clothes. It'll be freezing." Indy had just nodded. "Mutt, do you want anything?" Marion had asked him.

He shook his head. "M'alright, Mum." He had said, distracted as he flipped his switch blade over in his hands. It was odd to watch such a caring mother dote upon a greaser.

When ever I had seen Greasers in the city, I had always just assumed that they lived by themselves— or I hadn't given their lives much thought. I just shouted out insults and went on my way. It was just part of who I had turned into through high school I guess.

Preppies and Greasers didn't get on. And Scott was a Preppie. And Preppie's girls certainly didn't talk about greasers and their home lives.

Marion and I spent about ten minutes in the store. We went out in her car, which turned out to be a nice cream coloured car. Marion left me alone in the area for female blouses while she went off to get me some more things. I found a nice white blouse, and a small black satin jacket to wear over it. I also grabbed a belt for whatever pants that Marion said she was getting me.

When Marion returned, she presented me with some long black pants, and I blanched.

I didn't often wear pants out. Only in my house when I was completely convinced I wasn't going out anywhere did I ever wear such things.

And go to Italy in them?

I had bought them though. It hadn't taken much convincing. Marion really only had to say, "You'll blend. Everyone in Italy wears them," and I had them in a bag walking out of the shop.

By the time both Marion and I returned to the Jones' home, Mutt and Indy were already to go in their foyer. "I called Lyle." Indy said to Marion as soon as we walked in. "He says he's got a plane waiting for us at his farm."

I felt my stomach swoop. It was common knowledge to any one who knew me that planes and I didn't mix. After the crash, I had always thought plane rides would go the wrong way. I tended to avoid travelling like that, not going out of country often, and taking the train interstate.

Marion nodded. "Well, that's not too far. We could walk?"

I prayed to god that they wouldn't make us walk. I don't think I could handle it. I'd have to work on a way of preserving energy. Maybe sleep would do me good. And, if we were travelling non-commercially, I'm sure I would get a chance to sleep on the plane.

Plus, sleeping on the plane would take my mind off imagining what would go wrong.

Indy shook his head. "Nah. We'll take your car. Lyle said he's got a garage where he can keep it, after we've gone."

I frowned and looked confusedly at Mutt. "You're dad can fly planes?"

Mutt snorted. "Not a chance, Doll." He said with a chuckle. "He'll call in a favour."

Oh. Of course.

But at least this was something civil. I wasn't used to it from guys like him. It was a progress, especially if I was going to Rome with him.

Sure enough, when we exited Marion's car there were three people, waiting for us. Two men and one woman. One of the men introduced himself as "Lyle," the guy who was lending us his plane. The other guy was only about five year my senior, and he was going to be driving the plane.

"I'm Freddie." He introduced himself. He grinned down at me in a friendly sort of way, and I grinned back. He shook Indy's hand with a sort of reverence that told me Dr. Jones was somewhat a legend amongst these people.

The woman's name was Mary. She was married to Lyle. It turned out that Freddie was their son, and Lyle had taught him to fly when he was fifteen. I hadn't even learnt to _drive _until last year, when I was nineteen. Learning to fly must have been some sort of _kookie_ experience.

"I'd love to stay and catch up…" Indy said in a voice that suggested he would rather pull his own eyeballs out. "But we don't have much time. We need to get to Taranto as soon as possible." Marion glowered at him, but nodded in agreement.

I found myself pushed onto my small plane before I really had a chance to even thank anybody. Two wooden benches seemed to be the extent of the comfort in the back of this plane. I made a point to not look annoyed with this, though. We were going to Italy, to save my Granddad, and we didn't even have to pay. Sure the flight would be painful, but nothing would go wrong.

I should have been more than grateful.

Indy and Marion sat side by side, their hands grasping. I smiled. It was nice to see people like that. Married, happy and totally in love. Maybe they were petrified of flying, but they didn't show it, because their love distracted them.

Too bad I didn't have someone to help me with that.

The next problem presented itself as soon as I realised that I would have to sit next to the greaser for the rest of the trip. I opened my mouth to protest, and then caught myself. These people were doing me a favour.

Plus, I had to prove to Mutt Jones that I wasn't some sort of clueless 'paper shaker.'

I sat down next to him, making myself more comfortable by moving so of the folded canvas in the back behind my back so I could lean on it. Mutt sat next to me, and already had his small knife out.

The engines roared to life and I took a shaky breath. Here we go. I clenched my fists tightly onto the seat, trying not to let it get to me. At least this plane didn't have windows like the other ones. Those ones would have killed me.

The thing that really freaked me out about plane crashes wasn't that it had taken my parent's life. Sure, that was a painful side to it, but I would have gotten over it. No, what scared me about planes was that if anything went wrong, there's nothing you can really do about it.

I mean the safety measures basically state, put on a life jacket and hope for the best. But if you land on the ground then you have no chance. You'll crash into a thousand pieces before anyone can even regret coming on the flight.

And the life jackets wouldn't really help. What if I pulled it too early, and got stuck to the roof of the plane to drown as the ship went down to rest at the bottom of the sea? What if it didn't inflate and you just sunk helplessly?

I closed my eyes shakily, trying not to think about it. I heard people shifting and snapped them open again. Indy had turned in his seat and leant against one of the crates beside the bench. He rested his head on it, and stretched out his legs. Marion had moved down the floor of the plane, where she sat with her head leaning on Dr. Jones's leg. Indy reached up and adjusted his Fedora, so it covered his eyes.

Marion's eyes closed as well.

I turned to look at Mutt who had stowed his knife away and had also made himself a little more comfortable. He stretched his legs out and slouched slightly, letting his head rest on the side of the plane. His eyes closed as well, and I knew that they were all quickly falling asleep.

I tried to do the same, shifting slightly.

Once again I attempted to close my eyes. Flashes of all the news pictures I had seen of burning planes and graveyards hit me full force and I snapped my eyes open again. I coughed slightly, and braced myself against the bench again.

This would be a long trip.

For the next ten minutes I watched as all three Jones' fell asleep. Indy's hands, which had been crossed across his chest, slumped and one of them rolled off and brushed the floor of the plane. Mutt's breathing evened out and his head lolled a bit to the right. Marion's head lolled as well, but to the front. Her shoulders slumped and then the only sounds I could hear were quiet breathing and the sound of the engine.

And I couldn't stand it.

I pushed myself shakily to my feet, stumbling a bit as the plane creaked under my feet. I swallowed and took another step forward. The same creaking thump came after my foot hit the bottom of the plane. I took a deep breath.

The short four steps from where I had been sitting to the cockpit was almost one of the most difficult in my life. Finally, I pushed the curtain apart. Freddie sat in the seat to my left, and the seat to the right was empty.

"Hey," I said quietly. "Am I allowed up here?"

Freddie turned his head, smiling slightly. "Not technically…" he said slowly. "But I take it its important, if you're not sleeping like the rest." He nodded to the three sleeping Jones' behind me.

I nodded. "This seat free?" I asked.

He laughed slightly, not taking his eyes from the windows and the controls in front of him. "Sit down, but _don't touch."_ I did as he said, smiling gratefully. "Now, what seems to be the problem?" He asked.

I sighed. "I'm petrified of flying." I said frankly.

He nodded. "Well then cutie, I'm afraid you chose the wrong mode of transport."

I allowed a quick glance out of the small window, and my stomach swooped at seeming the deep blue sea already thousands of miles below us. "You're telling me." I muttered, leaning back in the seat and squeezing my eyes shut.

It was probably that reaction that made Freddie stop laughing. "Hey..." He said slowly. "…you okay?"

I laughed dryly, still with my eyes closed. "Uh huh…" I muttered. "Yeah. I'm cranked."

Freddie sighed. "Your name's Kitty, right?" he asked. I nodded. "Kitty, open your eyes." I frowned, trying to convey how I thought he was crazy. "Come on…" He urged. "Open them."

I opened my eyes, but made a point to not look at anything other that him. He wasn't looking away from what he was doing, still flying the plane, but a bit of his attention was on me. "You're a cube, Kitty."

I stared at him, suddenly too shocked to think about the height. A _cube? _How long had I known this bloke? And he was already accusing me of being plain and normal? "Excuse me—?"

He cut me off. "Let me guess," he said after shushing me. "Nothing like this has ever happened to you. When you look at the stuff Dr. Jones and your granddad collects, you wish you could see what's so fabulous about it, but you can't. Back, wherever you're from, your jacketed to the captain of the football team and your best friends are either a bunch of jets, or no-brainer paper shakers."

Well. Nancy was _kind of_ smart, and Megan and Karen _were_ cheerleaders. And Scott _was_ the captain of the football team.

"And that greaser out there?" Freddie continued. "I've heard you when you talk to him. Like you're beneath him? Who told you that? Your Football college boyfriend? You talk to him like that because you think he's beneath you. Because your friends have told you that he's beneath you."

Well? Greasers were beneath me. "They are beneath me. They're so…"

Freddie stared at me, shaking his head. "So? So what? Different? Unique? They're beneath you because they don't play football like your probably brainless boyfriend."

… Well. They _didn't _play football.

"Before those guys came after you, you've never done anything interesting in your life. You just want to get out of college, get married to Joe College, and then squeeze out a few puppies."

He forgot move to London. I pointed this out to him and he let out a bark of humourless laughter. "You're a cube." He repeated.

"Wha—?"

He interrupted me again. "Kitty. This being afraid of heights it just another way to prove to yourself that you're a Clyde. Planes are too new to be classified as the norm these days. Only rich people, or connected people really fly on them _commonly._ And you don't want to be classified with them. You're trying to prove to someone that you're normal."

I frowned, giving up on trying to get my feeble excuses through his tirade of truth.

I guess he sort of had a point. Not about the plane thing— but about the rest. I did want to fit in. In fact, I spent a majority of my time in high school trying to be included by the cheerleaders who effectively ruled the school. I dated Scott.

"To be completely frank…" Freddie continued. "I'm pretty sure you probably don't even like your Ivy Leaguer."

That I had to stop. "That's not true." I protested. "I love Scott. He's a great guy and…" I trailed off as he raised his eyebrows.

"And?" he prompted. "And what? You tell me something Kitty, what do you like about the guy?"

I frowned slightly. "Well…" I started. "He's very… caring."

Lie. He wasn't caring. He teased me and my granddad in front of his friends just to get laughs. And he regretted stopping me from getting hurt because he's out of the next season.

"He's also very forgiving."

Lie. Sometimes he wouldn't talk to me for days when I said the wrong thing in front of his pals. He called me a Goof and told me to beat it. I didn't, always retreating to Nancy, but he would always cold shoulder me.

"And he's…" I trailed off. Realisation hit me and stared up at Freddie. "He's an asshole."

Freddie smiled triumphantly. "There it is." He said with a smirk. "And why did you start dating him?"

I frowned, thinking about my own stupidity. "Because he's the _goddam_ captain of the football team."

"I knew it!" Freddie said excitedly. "I knew it. Didn't I tell you?"

I nodded, blushing slightly. Freddie back tracked, "Hey. Don't be embarrassed. It was cool watching you get angry." He said. "There may just be a _personality_ beneath that outer cube." I laughed along with him.

The whole time he had been speaking, he hadn't been looking at me. He had been basically entirely focused on the plane, only talking to me about my normalcy. And while he was talking to me about it, I hadn't been focused on the plane.

Now that I was though, my muscles seized up again.

"I think you're wrong about one thing…" I said, with my voice a bit strained.

He smirked to himself. "The heights thing? You think that's an individual trait?"

Damn. Is this bloke _psychic? _

"Well, _yes."_ I said stressing my thoughts. "I'm not scared of flying because everyone else doesn't like it. I'm scared of flying because they're so dangerous."

Freddie smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? And who told you that?"

I frowned. "I told me that. When my parent's died in a plane crash five years ago…"

Freddie blanched. His eyes widened and he went pale. I saw his head even turn, as though he wasn't to look at me, but he kept his gaze firmly on the plane. "Holy crap." He said after a minute. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

I shrugged. "Hey, no problem. Like you said, you didn't know." I hated using the 'my parent's are dead' trick to get people off my back, but in this case I thought it was necessary. "I'll let you get back to actually flying the plane now."

There was a tense silence. And then Freddie sighed. "Well then, I don't know what to do about your fear of flying. Might I suggest trying to get some sleep, and if that doesn't work, try to distract yourself." I nodded, smiling at his effort.

I stood, careful not to touch any of the buttons. I smiled grimly at him. "Thanks." I said sincerely.

He nodded again. "As for the cube things…" He said, "I stand by everything else I said. Try going outside the box. You and the greaser out there were tense. Is that because you don't like the guy, or because you're not supposed to like the guy?"

I smiled, "I'll work on that." I said, not answering his question.

He smiled grimly. "Good luck, then Kitty." I smiled at him, and pulled the curtain close.

I managed to make my way back to the bench, still stumbling, but focusing on the image of myself stepping out of a cube. That distracted me slightly. However, the plane jolted slightly and I stumbled forward, landing on Mutt.

He jerked open and had the knife out before I could even squeak at him to calm down. He stared down at me, from where I was sprawled across his lap. "Having fun, doll?"

I pushed myself off his lap and tried to sit on the bench whilst retaining some of my dignity. "Don't call me that." I told him stubbornly. "My name's _Kitty._ Not Doll."

Mutt smirked, amused. "Found a back bone did we, doll?"

I scowled at him. "Maybe I did, _Henry."_

His smirked vanished and he scowled. I heard a cough from the cockpit that sounded like a badly covered laugh. Good, so Freddie had heard me. I'll show him cube.

"Don't call meHenry." Mutt warned me, scowling. His fist was clenched around the end of his knife.

"Don't call me Doll." I said evenly, with a raised eyebrow.

Mutt took in a deep breath. "You are a doll, baby." He informed me. "Small, timid, fragile."

I scowled this time. "I'm not _fragile._" I muttered.

Mutt looked sceptical. "Oh yeah?" He echoed. "That right." I nodded firmly. "Then why are you shaking, doll?" He asked, motioning to my hand which were shaking slightly, still worried about the height and such.

"I don't like planes." I informed him stonily.

He nodded his head. "See? _Fragile._" I frowned, pouting slightly. He took this as an invitation to keep talking. "You see, you've got the whole thing working for you." He told me. "Blonde hair, and big green eyes, I _bet _you walk around the city with boys curled around your tiny little finger. Especially with all your tight blouses and your pink jackets and your big skirts. And now that you're not there any more, you're freaking out."

I frowned and shook my head. "I just don't like planes. That's why I'm shaking."

"You keep telling yourself that, doll."

I frowned, crossing my arms across my chest, defensively. "Alright then," I said with a frown. Everyone was analysing me today. It was my turn. "What about you then, huh?" I demanded.

"What about me, baby?"

I faltered. I had nothing. He noticed this and began smirking. I frowned again and he began laughing. He didn't say anything, just laughed. Finally, I had enough of his laughing and pushed him. He fell off the bench down to the floor. "How's that for fragile, huh?" I demanded with a smirk.

His weight hitting the plane made it wobble slightly and I noticed it instantly, my hands grasping onto the first things I could reach— the edge of the bench and Mutt's shoulder. He chuckled again.

"Exactly what I was talking about, Doll,"

Damn it.

He pushed himself back onto the seat and stared at me calculatingly. I sighed, "Alright. So I'm not flipping out to be on a plane." I said, defeated. "As if you don't have your own problems."

Mutt smirked. "Only you, at the moment, Cutie. Only you."

Pig.

I rolled my eyes. "Then why do you carry that knife around with you? Why do you care so much about your hair?" My words reminded him and his quickly pulled out a comb, running it through his greased up locks. I had a sudden impulse to touch his hair, and feel what it would feel like against me fingers.

I pushed _that_ thought away quickly.

"It takes work to look this great, baby." He said.

I frowned. I'd had enough of him already. And we weren't even in Italy yet. I could hear the wind rushing past the plane and I shivered, suddenly very aware of the cold. It was getting colder. That reminded me.

"Hey," I said, managing to walk over to the cockpit again and stick my head through. "Is there any where to get changed here?"

Freddie, still looking at the plane's controls, made an incredulous face. "Yeah sure Kitty." He said sarcastically. "Down the hall and to the left."

I frowned. "You could've just said no." I muttered pulling my head away. Marion and Indy were still fast asleep. I frowned, sitting back down on the bench. Mutt was still running his comb through his hair.

'You look fine." I barked, irritated by his obsession.

He just chuckled and kept brushing his hair. "Don't I know it…" he muttered to himself.

I frowned, looking away from him. My eyes caught the canvas that I had moved to make my seat more comfortable. I unfolded it, and it was pretty large. I stood up, my focus on making this work taking my mind off the plane.

"Mutt?" I asked, deciding that use of his correct name would not get me in his good books, which was where I needed to be to make this work. "Can you help me out?" Mutt stowed his comb in his pocket and then stood up, not having anything better to do. "Can you hold this up here, and not look?"

He nodded, "Sure thing, Doll."

I smiled at him thankfully, and grabbed the bag of clothing that I had bought before leaving America. Mutt lifted the canvas up. Behind me was the cold metal wall of the plane. On the other side of the canvas were Mutt and his parents, so I was successfully shielded from any prying eyes.

I quickly pulled on the clothes, my old shirt falling from the bench and landing on Mutt's foot. He stared down at it. "You're making this hard, Doll..." I heard his voice from the other side of the tarp.

I hastily told the butterflies that had erupted in my stomach to cut the gas, and pulled on the new cleaner blouse.

I examined myself before telling mutt that he could put the canvas down. The black pants that I had bought looked extremely out of place. They were like stockings, only not see-through, made of black cotton, and they stopped at my ankles. The blouse was long, made in a way that I hadn't expected. It went past my waist and ended mid thigh. The black pants didn't have anywhere for the belt to go, so I simply wrapped it around my waist, letting it sit over the blouse.

I pulled on the black jacket and then reached for shoes. The black heels that Nancy had leant me wouldn't do. But I didn't have anything else. I made a mental note to buy some more sensible shoes in Italy.

"Alright." I said. "I'm decent."

Mutt put down the canvas sheet, and gean folding it. He looked at me and stared at me for a second. "You certainly are…" He said slowly, and then he smirked at me.

The butterflies returned and I grinned slightly. "You're alright yourself, Mr. Jones."

**xXxXx**

**A/N:** okay. Just for those of you who are confused, Cube and Clyde are words that were used in the fifties to describe someone totally normal. No uniqueness about them at all. I'm not entirely sure if they were meant as insults back then, but I figured that's how I'd take it.

So that's how Kitty takes it. If I'm incorrect, please notify me.

Oh, and Kitty has been very outspoken so far, but that's all about to change. Her talk with Freddie basically severely unhinges her confidence and such, and she had to work to get it back and be a better person.

I also want to point out that Freddie will be reappearing and coming in and out of this story. But he is not a romantic interest at all. The conversation I put in with Freddie was simply a way to progress the plot, because I can't go through an Indiana Jones fic with another Willie Scott. I know most reviewers would probably commit suicide, no matter how funny it is watching Kate Capshaw freak out and fall off an elephant.

Freddie was basically a prompt to get Kitty to step outside the safety of her boundaries, which she had stuck to closely so far in this fic. I did intend for her to have that conversation with Mutt, but then I decided that I liked it more when she talked to Freddie, and then Mutt commented on it as well, though in a more teasing way.

I hope you liked it and I hope you guys all stick with the story. We're slowly getting into the actual plot about now.

Thanks.

Grace.


	6. When in Taranto

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

When the plane touched down on the ground, I couldn't hold back the extremely loud expression of relief. "That bad, huh?" Freddie asked, poking his head through the curtain. I laughed and shook my head.

"Alright," Indy said, naturally waking up when he realised we had stopped. Marion was stirring as well, stretching herself as she woke herself up. "Taranto, right Freddie?"

Freddie flushed. "Actually, no. Sorry Dr. Jones, but they didn't have a good enough run way. It was crowded and I couldn't find a spot to land."

Marion frowned. "Where are we, then?" She asked, getting Dr. Jones's hand to pull herself up.

Freddie shrugged. "I landed in one of the paddocks. So I'd get out of here before the owner notices and gets pissed. I must have ripped up their grass pretty bad." I frowned, managing to twist open the door and poking my head out.

There, running at us with a pitchfork, was an angry little man. "Time to go." I said urgently, running back inside and grabbing my bag and then hurrying back towards the door, Marion and Indy had already gotten out of the plane. Mutt was next and he jumped out with out using the stairs. I frowned, smiling at Freddie before running to the door.

I hurried down the ladder, Mutt catching me when my ridiculous heel slipped. I frowned at the shoes. Mutt laughed and set me down on the floor. "Fragile." He muttered.

The guys would have a field day if they saw me being this close to a greaser. Just as I thought this I head Freddie's shout as he leaned out to close the plane door. "Don't be a cube, Kitty."

I flushed and waved at him.

Then I heard Dr. Jones shout, "What is this? A party? Hurry Up!"

I looked over at the angry man who was getting closer. "Should we apologise. I'm sure we can pay him for—"

"COME ON!" Mutt shouted, grabbing my arm and pulling me forward.

Mutt and I ran after Indy and Marion, and I couldn't help but laugh as I turned around to see the fat man chasing Freddie as he began to gain the sped to take off again. We ran faster across the paddock, towards the angry man's home. Indy led us into their garage, where a car was sitting, ready to drive away.

If we had keys.

Indiana grabbed one of the man's tools and slammed it into the window. Indy reached through the broken window and unlocked the window. He pulled the door open and brushed some of the broken glass form where he would be sitting.

I screamed in surprise and looked in shock. "You'll get used to it, doll." Mutt said, pushing me forward so I could get into the back seat.

In a matter of second, Indy had hotwired the car and we were driving away, down the road, leaving only a trail of dust behind us. I let out an extremely gleeful laugh. "_This_ is archaeology?" I echoed incredulously.

All three Joneses just laughed.

I looked out the window, watching the countryside whiz by us. Was this what acting instinctively led to? If it were just me, I would have gone and apologised to the man. I certainly wouldn't have even considered damaging his car. Not smashing the window and stealing it.

But this? This way that the Jones did things? It was _exhilarating. _

As we drove into the small city, I couldn't figure out where we were going now. It was a quaint little city, exactly what you would expect of Italy. One long road ran down with house and homes on one side, and the sea on the other. There was so much here. It would be almost impossible to find anything if you didn't know what you were looking for.

"What _are_ we actually looking for?" I asked, as the thought struck me.

The Jones's all hesitated. Mutt looked interested as well. "Your grandfather." Marion said instantly.

I frowned. "Do any of us have any idea where to start?"

There was no real answer. Then Indy said. "The map your grandfather sent to you. It marks out Taranto."

Mutt nodded, "But … we're in Taranto. What does it say to do next?" he asked a little confused.

Indy shrugged. "It's got this verse— I think Franklin wrote it there." He said. "_Three strikes from God shall mark his bed." _

There was a second silence. Then, "Oh." Mutt said sarcastically. "That's great. So we just have to check every single _bed _in the city?"

Indy shrugged. "I'm working on it, alright son?"

I sighed, deflating a bit. I guess I hadn't thought much about what we would do upon arriving at Italy. Now that I thought about it though, there was really so much more to do. Just getting to Italy was the very beginning of everything. I stared out the window again, watching things go past me. The small quaint little houses. A primary school bussing with little girls and boys in identical uniforms, a church. A graveyard.

"Wait!" Marion said loudly, holding her hands up. She lifted her arms, and pointed at the graveyard. "Bed!" She said excitedly. "Oxley wrote that, and meant grave. Maybe there's a grave around here that's marked…"

"Marked by God?" I echoed.

Marion nodded. I shrugged. Sounds like a good idea. It was a start at least. Much better than randomly driving around the city trying to figure out what Franklin would have done next. "Sounds good." I muttered.

"Sounds good?" Indy echoed. He turned to Marion and pressed a brief kiss to her lips. "It's fabulous. I knew there was a reason I kept…" he trailed off looking at her face, "…attempting to do better by you…?" He saved.

Mutt and I exchanged an amused look. Nice save, Dr. Jones.

Indy pulled over the car, putting it in park. We all got out quickly enough and walked into the graveyard. I ignored the people giving us odd looks as they headed into their church services. It would seem that it was Sunday.

"So what are we looking for here?" Mutt asked Indy.

Indy shrugged. "A grave that looks as though it's been marked."

Marked? Marked by God. "But that could be anything…" I protested. "There are so many gods and so many marks from those gods. How do you know which one to look for?"

Indy shrugged. "We're in Italy. That would mean it's probably a Christian mark." I frowned. Everything here was Christian. It was a _Christian_ church.

"Wait a minute, Daddy-O…" Mutt said slowly. "If it's archaeological than couldn't it pre-date a Christian Italy? What about religions from around here? Neighbouring countries or something?"

Indy nodded. "You're right, kid." He said slowly. "Let's see… think, Indy, think." He told himself. "There was the Ancient Roman gods, which came before Christianity in Rome and Italy. And there were the Greek gods from Greece, which is only a boat ride away."

"They're pretty similar, right?" I suggested, cutting into his out loud thinking. "I mean, the gods were all pretty much the same?"

Indy nodded. "Yes. Some people even believe that the Romans took the Greeks gods and simply renamed them. There was Poseidon and Neptune. And Artemis and Diana and Aphrodite and Venus. And offcourse, there was Zeus and Jupiter."

Marion frowned. "Wait. Didn't they both use lightning bolts?" She asked. "In all the legends? They use lightning bolts and such."

I nodded. "Right. So we look for a grave that looks like it's been struck by lightning? What does that mean?"

Mutt smirked. "Isn't it obvious, doll? You have to look for a grave that's all burnt and charred. That's what happens when things get struck by lightning."

I frowned at him. "Oh, go comb your hair.' I told him.

Marion and Indy exchanged a knowing smile that I pointedly ignored, and Mutt looked annoyed. "What about…?" But I couldn't think of anything.

"Look." Indy finally said. "Just look around. I don't know what this mark is, but just look for anything out of the ordinary. If you find anything like that, than just… we'll look at it, and figure out what to do next."

We all nodded and split up.

Walking around the graves I couldn't help but feel a little shiver. I never really liked graveyards. They were the setting of so many horror stories and movies that it had become almost customary to feel uncomfortable in them. And to think that only about three feet below my feet was the body, or bones, or someone was just a little too creepy for my liking.

I stopped at the grave of a Mr. Christopher Right. It made me smile, knowing that there was a Mr. Right out there. Beside him was Mrs. Right, who had obviously decided that he was the right man for her. Fresh flowers rested on the grave, decorating the headstone. I smiled grimly and kept walking.

I walked past to many graves that I began to read the names and the ages to see exactly what had happened. A Roberto Piaza died at age 107, only last year. A couple of places over there were two graves marked Eliza and Emily Bennita two twins who were six months old when they died.

"Depressing, huh?"

I looked over at Mutt, and nodded, kneeling at the headstones of Eliza and Emily. "It makes you think…" I said slowly. "About what could have happened, you know? Like... maybe the kids got the flu," I nodded towards the large mausoleum that had the name of seven people in plaques across the sides. "They all died at the same time. Maybe it was a flood, or a house fire."

Mutt shrugged. "Don't think about it doll. It's too dark for someone like you to think about."

I frowned at him. "Cut the gas, you Jack ass." I muttered. "I told you I'm not _fragile._"

Mutt frowned. "When did I say you were?"

I opened my mouth ready to direct him back to his sentence. Then I realised that he actually hadn't called me fragile. He had just said that it was too dark for me to be thinking about. I blushed. He laughed.

"Come on, Doll…" he muttered. "I don't think there's anything here."

We went to the main church and waited while Indy talked to the chaplain. He explained that there were four other cemeteries in the city. We went to the next, looking for something out of the ordinary. We all split up and went past every single grave, checking it thoroughly.

"Most of these graves hold people who died thousands of years ago." Indy explained to us. "That's what's so great about Italy, and old countries. The History is everywhere."

Now I could tell why he and Franklin were such good friends. Those were almost the exact same words Franklin said whenever he left the country.

We got excited at one point when I found the grave of Mr. Marcus God. It turned out to be a dud though, when I realised his name was Marcus Godey, and the 'ey' had just been covered by the flowers that decorated it.

"We can't find what ever it is, until we know _what _it is." Mutt said.

We were half way through looking through the fourth grave when I heard Mutt shout. "Hey." He said quietly. It got louder. "Hey! HEY!" he motioned for us to join him. "I found something. I found something!"

We all ran over to where he was and looked at the grave. There was no name. "Lightning bolts, right?" Mutt checked excitedly. "What about these?" he pointed at something in the corner of the stone.

I leaned forward and when my eyes focused I began to grin. Three little lightning bolts had been engraved into this gravestone. Indy leaned forward, now just as excited as his son. "The dirt inside it suggests that it's been here for longer than one hundred years. This is it. Three strikes from god will mark his bed."

He turned to us. "Franklin wants something that's in this grave."

I nodded. "So… what now?"

"So…" Marion said with a sly smirk. "We go to buy some spades, and come back tonight."

**xXxXx**

Considering it was still early in the afternoon, we had about six hours to burn. "We'll go into town." Marion suggested. She smiled grimly at me. "I'm afraid I don't have any lire. Or not enough to buy you new shoes and shovels for everyone. You're going to have to stick with the ones you're wearing."

I stared dejectedly down at the two inch heels that I had strapped on. Luckily enough, I was used to that type of shoes, so I didn't have any blisters. But that could change pretty soon. I shrugged, "Don't worry, Mrs Jones. I'll be fine." She smiled at me.

Indy did have enough money, however, to buy him and Marion a coffee in one of the small coffee shops. He threw us all of his change. "Get out of here, you two." He muttered. "Permit me to spend a romantic hour in Italy with my wife."

I swear to God that Mutt almost gagged.

I laughed at him as he pulled me away quickly. I frowned. "Aren't you used to that kid of thing?" I asked curiously. "I mean, they're your parents…"

Mutt scoffed. "Only just." He muttered.

I stared at him.

"Oh…" He backtracked. "I mean, yeah they're my parents. And yeah, Dr. Jones's is the guy who fathered me. But… I only just met him a couple of months ago."

My eyebrows disappeared into my fringe. I stared at him. Was he joking? He started talking about his latest adventure and I realised that I hadn't been wrong in thinking Dr. Jones was used to this adventure thing. The Amazon? Crazy Russian Communists?

"You're not so new to this kidnapping stuff then, huh?" I asked with a frown.

Mutt chuckled. "It was intense. But I haven't really started to classify him as my dad yet. It's all a bit kookie."

I nodded. "This whole thing is kookie. Who knew Archaeology professors had such rad lives?"

Mutt shrugged, "Don't get me wrong," he muttered. "The Doc is pretty cool. He's totally on the stick. But he can be a bit of a smart ass jet, sometimes." That wouldn't surprise me about Dr. Jones.

"What about you, doll?" Mutt asked, changing the subject. "I bet you're really radioactive back in the City. Why'd you care so much about your Granddad?"

I stared at him. "He's my Granddad." I said obviously. "I love him. I wasn't that radioactive. I was more or less one of those girls in orbit just because I knew the right people."

Mutt nodded. "Oh yeah? And how'd that work out for you?"

I shrugged. "I thought it was cool. And then I talked to Freddie on the plane and he told me straight out that I was a cube."

Mutt snorted. "Bet you loved that, doll…" He stared at me, waiting for my reaction.

I rolled my eyes. "It wasn't that crazy." I muttered. "But it sort of opened my eyes. I mean, now that I think about it, my boyfriend? He's a total jackass."

Mutt looked happy with that. "Not so happy with Joe College, eh doll?"

I grinned. "Everyone's calling him that. But no, not in so many words. I realised that he's just some sort of freak who thinks sports is more important than someone's life."

Mutt smirked, pulling out his comb and running it through his hair. "What a nosebleed…" he muttered.

"Of course," I said with a quirked brow. "That's better than a boy who think his grody flat-top that's full of grease is more important than being polite."

Mutt froze. He slowly put the comb back in his pocket. "Did you just call it grody?"

I smirked up at him. "I do believe I did." I said with a grin.

"Doll, no one calls my hair grody." He warned me dangerously.

I couldn't stop grinning. "Come on…" I reasoned. "You have to admit… it is a bit… goopy?"

"_Goopy_…?" he echoed in an incredulous whisper.

Whoops.

I squeaked and spun on my heel, desperate to get away from the murderous looking greaser. This is what I get for speaking my mind? For taking Freddie's advice and stepping outside the cube? I yelped as I heard him shout, "Come back here, Kitty. I'm show you _goopy." _

From now on, I'm sticking to strictly _inside_ the cube.

"You're over reacting!" I told him, dodging a surprised looking Italian woman.

"Over reacting?" Mutt echoed. "Cutie, you haven't seen anything yet."

This sort of running I could get used to. It was more relaxed than when I was running from the black suits, even though I was running at roughly the same pace. I suppose there wasn't the element of not knowing exactly what would happen if he caught me. In fact, a part of me wanted to stop to see what this strange greaser would do when I did stop.

I could just imagine Nancy's face if she knew I was running through a small town in Italy, laughing with a greaser who I thought was better looking than any other boys I had ever met.

I felt a pair of strong arm wrap around my waist and suddenly I was in the air. I looked down to see Mutt holding me up, but then he had flung me across his shoulder. "Hey." I protested. "I'm not some pack horse."

"Could have fooled me." Mutt said loudly.

I hit his back. "Put me down…" I ordered. "I'm fragile, remember?"

Mutt snorted. "Right. Haven't you been trying to convince me that you're _not _fragile?"

I shrugged. "Well, yes…" I sighed. "But I give in. I'm very fragile. So you should put me down."

He shook his head in amusement. "Not a chance, doll." He said. "If you're too fragile, I'll just have to teach you to be tougher."

That sounds painful. And Dangerous. And scary.

I gulped.

As I sat, swung over his shoulder, I saw his greased hair. The back of his hair was fashioned into a Duck Butt; the way that the grease made his hair sit, was hilarious. It was for reasons like this that I had mocked greasers like him when I was in High school and such. I giggled at the sight of his hair, but felt the strange compulsion to run my fingers through it again.

I swallowed the instinct and looked away.

"Where are we going?" I asked. I caught the eye of a woman who looked particularly aghast at my treatment. I stifled a laugh.

"Just to find somewhere to sit?"

I frowned. That didn't sound very dangerous. "What for?"

He shrugged and I bumped on his shoulder. "To make you less fragile."

I frowned, thinking about his words until he stopped and let me sit down. He had found a bench just outside of the park, to the side of the road. "Sit." He ordered, letting me off his shoulder. I did as he said, looking up at him curiously.

"Right." He said sitting next to me. "I didn't want some fragile little girl coming with us because you are fragile. So I'm gonna teach you how to look after yourself. Plus, I think you deserve a punch for insulting my hair, and I'm not going to hit an unprotected woman."

I frowned, crossing my arms across my chest. "In that case, I don't want to learn."

Mutt shook his head. "I said I don't _want _to. Not that I won't. Trust me, doll, and its better if you let me teach you."

I nodded. He grabbed my hand and I ignored the tingling that came form touching his hand. He proceeded to tell me exactly how to hold my hand when throwing a punch and where to aim for. "The nose is always good, as well as the jaw— even though that may hurt your hand more than it hurts them. If it gets too bad, just grab 'em and knee them in the family jewels."

I sighed. Boys…

"Yeah…" I said, letting him know I was paying attention.

"And you never hold your thumb inside of your fist, other wise you'll break it." I nodded in affirmative and he moved my thumb outside of my clenched fingers. "If you're looking to get someone away from you, the best option is to probably try and break their nose. You just get the ball of your thumb and force it into their nose, sort of pushing upwards towards their eyes. It breaks it, every time."

I grimaced, trying to imagine myself ever doing that to someone.

"Where did you learn this?" I asked curiously, looking at my own palm, visualising me shoving my hand into someone's face.

"College. I went to heaps of them before Dad came along. Learnt Fencing, taekwondo, and heaps of other stuff like that. Loads of self defence—I had a friend who was sure they were trying to train us for the Government. Only class that I didn't take was wrestling." He smirked at me. "I didn't see anything appealing in the concept of rolling around on the floor with other guys."

I smirked, having a sudden mental image of Mutt in one of those men's uni-tards. I snorted at the picture and Mutt shrugged. "You should have seen the guys who took the class. Talk about spaz."

I giggled.

Then I frowned.

Although, I had to admit, I couldn't quiet guess exactly what was underneath that leather jacket and black t-shirt of his, though I couldn't deny that it would be pretty. I could already tell that he had a classy Chassis. I know people think it's vulgar to get into that sort of relationship before marriage, but Mutt inspired sudden thoughts in my mind.

Someone needed to knock it out of me. Maybe if he hit me, I'd stop thinking of him as such a cat.

"You going to hit me then, Mutt. I did insult your flat-top." I reminded him.

Mutt thought about it for a second. Then he stood up from the bench and stood in front of me. I stared up at him. He curled his hand into a fist and brought it towards my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, but opened them when he started chuckling.

He ran his hand through my hair and I flinched, leaning away from his hand and whatever he was trying—and succeeding— to do. Then I frowned as I realised what he was actually doing to my once neat hair.

"Now whose hair is _goopy_, Cutie?"

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **I think I've made Mutt too entirely OOCish. But people tell me I'm doing fine. If everyone who takes the time to read this note could just post a quick review and tell me how I'm doing and how I can change it to make it better I would be extremely grateful.

Thankyou very much.

I hope you like the relationship between Mutt and Kitty. I'm sorry for the insane Mutt/Kitty centric-ness of this chapter but I'm working on getting to the good stuff. I'm also rather worried about the length. I hope everyone's satisfied with how long the chapters are.

Thanks for reading, once again and please review. I love to know what people think.

Cheers,

Grace.


	7. Grave Robbery

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

The concept of grave robbery had never really occurred to me before. Archaeology was supposed to be in the library, studying and analysing small pieces of worthless junk. Not robbing graves and gun fights. Not kidnapping and henchmen in large black suits.

But, here we were.

"This is unreal." I whispered to mutt. He nodded, swinging his shovel as he walked. In the end, the price of Marion and Indy's coffee had been so much that we only had enough money to buy two shovels. So Much and I carried them, even though the plan was that the two men dig.

Gotta love tradition.

"Is it this one?" I motioned to the grave that I was walking towards. Everyone crowded around me and sure enough I could see the three small lightning bolts. I threw the shovel I was carrying to Doctor Jones and Mutt and he got to work digging.

I walked over to Marion, and sat down in the grass beside the grave. Marion sat next to me, setting the lamp we had brought down in front of us.

"How are you doing Kitty?" Marion asked me with a comforting smile. She wrapped one arm around my shoulder and I instinctively leant into her.

"As good as possible at the moment, I guess." I said with a shrug. I couldn't be completely happy right now. Not while Franklin was out being held hostage somewhere.

Marino squeezed my shoulder. "You're a strong one, Kitty." She sighed. "I have to admit, when I met you, I wasn't sure if you would have what it takes to go on one of Indy's adventures."

I smiled to myself. "They're a bit extreme, aren't they?"

Marion let out an exhilarated laugh. "Oh please…" she said with a grin, "I live for these adventures. Sure, having a son who I love, and a husband who I can rely on completely is a very good deal in life. But whenever we come on these journeys, all I can think about is how fabulous they are. You know Mutt was conceived directly after the first adventure I had with Indy."

I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to hear this story. Not after Indy and Mutt reacted the way they did. Mutt groaned and said loudly, "No Mum, not again…"

Indy dropped his shovel at the word conceived, picking it up and said quickly, "You'll bore the girl to death, Marion."

Marin ignored the two of them. "I used to own a bar in Nepal," She began her tale. "And it all started when Indy—who was a great deal better looking back then, I might add—" Indy scoffed "— walked through the bar doors asking for a pendant that my father gave to me before he had died."

The recounted the tale very well. She told me of how she felt and what exactly had happened to her. Indy butt in at times, to tell Marion that the baby monkey she had fallen in love with was an enemy spy and had died eating some poisoned dates— Marion hadn't heard that before then, and got very upset, then launched into a whole new tale about the monkey— She also recounted her feeling when Indy had left her in Belloq's camp very well.

So well in fact, that Indy cringed as she told us. "I mean," She said. "The man deserts me when I'm sixteen, and then just when I'm beginning to trust him again, he leaves me tied up and gagged in some perverted French man's personal tent!"

Mutt didn't look very happy with this.

"I couldn't have gotten you out of there." Indy persisted. "I needed to find the ark and if I had taken you, it would have made Belloq more aware of what was going on. I couldn't have him suspicious."

"Typical men…" Marion said to me. "Think that trinkets and old artifacts are more important than a girl's life."

I grinned, recognizing my own words from that afternoon. "And sports, or hair product…" I looked pointedly at Mutt who smirked at me. It had taken me about half and hour to get all the knots he had put in my hair out again.

"My point is," Marion continued, after story telling was done, "you got stones, darling. And not many girls would have been able to do what you did."

I smiled gratefully at her, leaning into her arm.

"So what did you and Mutt get up to today?" She asked, changing the subject.

I smiled. "Your son taught me how to punch today. He taught me the successful ways to break someone's nose and incapacitate an attacker by kneeing them in the, I quote 'family jewels.'"

Marion laughed slightly, letting her head lean back a bit. "Mutt can be a bit coercive." She said with a grin.

I grinned with her. I liked it. The concept of a boy who could be so independent and strong, and look after himself was widely acknowledged. The world wouldn't be the same if boys weren't like that. Women fought to be acknowledged like that.

I told Marion this and she laughed. "Women have it tougher than men…" She said, agreeing with my statement.

Indy and Mutt, who were both, now about two feet deep into the soil stared up incredulously at us. They had sweat on their foreheads and looked quite like they would have preferred to hit us across the head with those shovels.

Marion and I grinned obliviously up at them, and they both grudgingly rolled their eyes and started digging again. They got closer and closer to where the body should have been buried and they gradually got more and more excited.

"Is Franklin like this?" Marion asked knowingly.

I nodded fondly. He was exactly like this. "Especially when he brings something home to show me. It's like Christmas has come early or something.

Sure enough, the boys leapt up and started shouting with excitement when Mutt's shovel caught the first bone. I leaned away, a bit disgusted. "Get the rest of the dirt off." Indy ordered Mutt, as he discarded his shovel and began scooping dirt away with his hands.

Once the majority of the dirt was gone, and in the large pile beside the grave, we all peered curiously into it. Indy was down there, pushing past the bones. "Can you tell if it was a guy?" I asked. If it was a girl than we were screwed, and back to square one. Indy looked at the bones, and examine what I supposed was the pelvic bone.

"Yep." He finally deduced. "This was a guy."

"Jones…" Marion barked. "What's that?" She pointed down to something sticking out from the side of the hole the two boys had built. Indy reached down and tugged on it gentle a couple of times, before it finally came free of the earth.

"It's a book…" Indy said looking at it. He handed it up to me. "Is there anything in there that Franklin's interested in?" Marion held the lamp up while I flicked through the books pages. It was a journal, by a man named Arqim.

"I guess that who this guys was." I said with a shrug. I read through the parts that I could read— luckily enough my father had insisted that I learn Greek at school before he had died, and I had continued after his death.

"It told a story of a long journey that Arqim went on to recover what he calls the Keys to Salvation…" I explained slowly. Both Mutt and Indy climbed out of the grave. "The Statue of Zeus!" I exclaimed, finally reading a line that could be more helpful. "It says that he was part of the group that saved it from the destruction of Pagan statues in Emperor Theodosius I's reign."

The three Jones's looked on over my shoulder. I faltered. "I can't read the rest." I sighed, not able to dissect the words into proper English.

Indy reached for the book. "It says…" He continued. "That they bribed the builders of the temple to build a large cavern underneath. And when Theodosius gave the order for its destruction, they lowered the statue into it. They called it the Cavern of Salvation."

Mutt stared at it, pulling the book out of his father's grasp. "It says that it was locked by three keys, all in the shape of a ring and decorated with the trials of Hercules. The head of the group of pagans was supposed to wear them, but he was killed."

There was a loud angry shout in Italian.

Uh oh.

"To be continued." Indy muttered hastily. He grabbed Marion's arm and ran towards the stolen car. Mutt and I followed, Mutt still holding the book. This was surreal. We had actually found something. There was more angry shouting in Italian and I spun around to see the pastor of the church staring at the emptied grave. We jumped into the car to see him waving his fists at us as we drove off.

**xXxXx**

"I don't believe we're actually squatting." I said in shock, and Indy pulled down the garage door. After driving around town for a few minutes, Indy had successfully located a large block of houses, all with FOR SALE signs out the front.

Or, that's what they told me they said. I didn't speak Italian, so I was taking a lot on faith. We had discarded the car down a couple of blocks and then walked back here, creeping up to one of the houses. "They haven't put the alarm systems in yet." Indy explained to us. "They're going to make the buyer pay for that."

I frowned as I saw all the furniture already in here. When I asked Indy about it he shrugged. "For show. We'll have to be out pretty early tomorrow. The sign said, they open for show again at eleven."

Marion nodded. "We'll be out of here by ten." She said decidedly. No one even thought to argue.

Unfortunately, it was a one-bedroom house, probably for newly wed Italian people to move into. "You two will have to take the couch." Marion said to Indiana and Mutt. "Because there will be no bed sharing, and I'm not sleeping on a couch."

There were no arguments there either. Being the woman of the house must have been a nice luxury.

We all sat down on the couch however, to talk about the diary. Mutt extracted it from his pocket and handed it to Indy. "Here you go, Paps." He said smugly. Indy swiped it, and put his glasses on, not looking away from his son.

"Thanks, son." He said sarcastically.

Ah, Family love.

Indiana opened up the journal, with a sigh. "It says," he started, "That the statue of Zeus was saved, and not lost."

"The statue of Zeus?" Mutt interrupted. "That's that massive one right? The one that historians couldn't figure out what had happened?"

Indy nodded. "You're right. It's often called one of the Seven Wonders of the World. We only know it existed because we've found so many coins with it engraved on them."

"But that's in Olympia, right?" Mutt verified, "He looked over the Olympic Games? Why would the diary be in Italy, if he's talking about something in Greece?"

Indy sighed. "Maybe if you let me read, we'll find out."

Mutt frowned, and ran his comb through his hair.

Indy continued. "What _was_ lost, however, were the three keys that are needed to enter the cavern that holds the statue, and to bring it back up to the surface. They called the cavern, the cavern of Salvation, and the Keys were called The Keys of Salvation."

Mutt smirked, "I'm noticing a reoccurring theme here…" He said with a smirk.

"They called themselves Salvaators." Indy said the word as though it was as common to him as any other word. He pronounced it with all the vowels. _Sal-vah-tors._ "And the head of the group was supposed to wear the rings, to keep them safe. However, the head was killed and the rings were lost."

He sighed. "That's where the man—Arqim—starts talking about himself. He says that he searched everywhere for them, and found out that a merchant had found them and taken them from Olympia and was on his way to sell them in Italy. He says that he quickly decided to follow him."

He looked up at us. "He lists all the places when he followed the merchant. He went through Volos, Larissa, Ioannina, and Vlore. Then they crossed the Ionian Sea and he landed in L'ecce, where he went through Brindisi, Bari, Foggia, Napoli and then he arrived in Rome."

He sighed. "He says that he has only just beginning to think about what should happen if he should fail." Indy's eyes widened. "He's written down instructions. How to use the keys, where to put them. He says that clues to get to the Cavern are inside the Trials of Hercules that lined the walls of the temple."

I frowned. "Is that a problem?"

Indy nodded. "They found the Trials of Hercules." He said. "And moved them to the Louvre."

There was a dead beat of silence.

"In Paris?" Mutt asked.

Indy gave him an annoyed tired look. Then he looked back at the journal. "It says that he did not recover the rings, in Rome because he missed the Merchant, so he continued to follow him. He finally caught up with the Merchant in Taranto, where he spoke to the merchant. The Merchant told him that he lost the rings in Rome. And—"

Indy turned the page and stopped.

"And what?" Marion prompted.

Indy shook his head. "And nothing. It ends. He must have died."

I felt a pang of sadness for the man who died without finishing what he obviously thought was so important. For him, if not for me or for the Joneses or for Franklin, I would help stop those suits and whoever they worked for getting to this temple.

We were all silent. "What do we do now?"

Indy shrugged. "I don't know. If we had the Key's I would go to Paris and get those clues. But we don't. We could go to Rome, but to look for three tiny rings in a city of that size with no real evidence to follow, or clues to lead us there? I don't know."

I frowned, reaching down to fidget with my … _rings? _

"Oh, my god." I said slowly, staring at the three golden bands on my fingers. There, the three little identical men who decorated each ring almost stared up at me tauntingly. Franklin had found these rings in _Rome. _

"What?" Mutt asked.

"What were the Trials of Hercules?" I asked quickly, staring at my hand.

Marion and Mutt both looked to Indy for an answer. "Well," He said, flipping through the journal. "He… held the world on his shoulders…"

That was one. I pulled the ring depicting that off my finger.

"He wrestled an undefeatable lion and stole it's fur."

That was two.

"He wrestled the Hell Guardian's three headed dogs, Cerberus…"

That was three.

"What did you say we'd do if we had the keys?" I asked again.

"Go and find the clues in the Louvre at Paris. Why?" Indy looked up at me curiously.

I held up the three rings. "Franklin found these in Rome in 1906. He gave them to my mum, and then to me when she died. They've got the right pictures on them, and there are three of them. Guys… I think I've had the Keys all along."

There was a loud round of excited babble.

"…Well I guess we're going to Paris. That will be nice. I mean, of course we won't be sight seeing, but maybe it'll turn on that Romantic switch in Indy…"

"…The lost statue of Zeus. I don't believe it. That's been one of the most talked about unsolved mysteries in the history of mankind. And we might actually see it with our own eyes. Of course, we'll have to be careful. I'll have to get Freddie on the phone. Tell him to turn around and come right back again. He'll be flying us to Paris…"

"...Looks like the doll's granddad stumbled on something massive. One of the Seven Wonders of the World? That's pretty big stuff…"

I just stared at the rings in my palm. Had Franklin some how planned this since when he was Twenty-One? Was that how long this one long archeological discovery had been going? Did he know what he was about to find?

"Good work Doll…" Mutt said with a grin. I grinned back, looking across at the small TV that was part of the show. "You reckon that works?" I asked.

Mutt stood up and walked over to the TV cabinet, pressing the large round ON button. It blared to life, but showed only static. He sat down next to me. "We're going to go and talk about flights and stuff in the kitchen." Indy said as he and Marion exited the room.

I stared at he static screen. Mutt growled in irritation and then stood up, playing with the antennae on the top. When he moved it, I could faintly see things blaring, but it was all still disrupted by the static.

"Just leave it," I said, mid-yawn, "I won't watch it anyway."

"Maybe I wanna watch it, Doll…" Mutt said with a smirk.

I squinted at the screen. "Well, I can almost see something. That's either a TV news presenter, or an alien space ship."

I laughed at my joke, but Mutt didn't. "Don't you believe in Aliens doll?" He asked with a smirk. He gave up with the TV and came and sat down next to me again.

I shook my head. "Do you?"

He said. He grinned. "Lets just say the adventure that let me meet my dad? Yeah, it opened my eyes to other things."

I stared at him with wide eyes. "_Aliens?" _I said incredulously. "You met aliens?"

He smirked and let his head lean back and rest on the back of the couch. "I'll tell you some time later, doll. You look wiped. Why don't you get some sleep?" He suggested.

I shook my head. "That's all the way in the other room. Don't want to move…" My words became slurred and a blurry darkness stared at the sides of my eyes, going though my vision as I stared at Mutt, and then over took my eyes completely.

I dreamt of an alien wearing a toga staring at me, holding out three rings in the palm of his hand. "Find Salvation." It told me, as it morphed into Franklin wearing the same toga. Then it dropped the rings and they feel to the floor with a 'clunk.'

**xXxXx**

When I woke up, I didn't remember anything that I had dreamt that night. All I could register was that my pillow was surprisingly warm and was moving up and down. And there was a leather clad arm draped around my shoulder.

I tried not to move; perfectly comfortable snuggled up against Mutt. Part of me, the part that still whispered Scott was a good guy, was telling me to slap him across the face and get out of there. But the part of me that was listening to Freddie, the small part of the person I wanted to be fully, was telling me to stay.

So I did.

I stayed there, not moving so that I wouldn't wake him up. My face rested against his stomach and his arm was leaning around my waist. The leather of his jacket, smelt fabulous and, well, _leathery_. His arm was leaning around my waist.

I heard movement in the kitchen, and Indy and Marion talking. "…I called Freddie and he said he'd pick us up at the same paddock at ten thirty." Indy was saying.

There was an extremely loud clang as something metal collided with the kitchen floor. Then Marion's loud, "Oh _crap!"_

Mutt jerked away, inhaling sharply. Instantly, his arm was tightly wrapped around my waist, and he other hand balled into fist, as if ready for an attack. Then he blinked. Once… Twice. He moved his head and I closed my eyes, pretending I was asleep.

I felt the weight from his arm being pulled away, and I shivered, realizing that his arm had been keeping me warmer than I had thought initially. I kept my eyes closed.

"Morning Henry…Kitty…" Marion said, walking out of the kitchen. "Did I wake you?"

Mutt chuckled, his stomach tensing under my ear. "Yeah, Mum, you did."

She sighed. "Sorry. But we're leaving in a couple of minutes anyway. Didn't it wake Kitty?" She asked.

"Nah. She's still asleep." Mutt sighed.

Marian sounded like she was grinning. "Better wake her up then Mutt. He muttered quietly, staring down.

"Uh…" Mutt seemed at a loss.

I decided it would be better to save him the confusion. I stirred, opening my eyes slowly, letting out a groan. "Who dropped what?" I muttered.

Marion laughed. "Morning, sleeping beauty. Sorry about the noise. You better get up. We're leaving soon." I groaned and then froze, pretending I had only just realised where I was.

Mutt chuckled. "Don't worry, Doll. I think your subconscious likes me." I glared at him, pushing myself up and getting off the couch.

"There's a shower down the hall." Indy called out from the kitchen.

Mutt and I were silent for a second. "MINE!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, spinning around and running towards the door at the end of the hall. I could hear Mutt running after me. I made it to the door and spun around slamming it.

I laughed at the sound of Mutt colliding with the newly closed door.

After the shower, I walked smugly back out of the bathroom, hair freshly washed and clothes neat again. Mutt was waiting, with a frown. I smirked up at him. "I'd watch the hot water…" I said with a sigh. "I may have used it all."

Mutt chuckled as I walked past him and I hesitated. "If that's true, Cutie, then I'll be dunking that pretty little clean face of yours into the mud."

I swallowed and hurried down the hallway, well aware of his loud laughter. I waited on the lounge, tensely to see if I had used too much water. I stared at my reflection in the black TV. I looked decent now. Clean. He would ruin it.

Mutt's shower was extremely short. He walked out, dressed back in a new white t-shirt, but the same leather jacket and jeans, with a towel over his shoulders.

I stared at him. "You're dead, doll…" he said with a sigh. I swallowed.

Luckily enough for me, his parents entered the room and he couldn't do much. They had gotten the few things we had brought along, and asked what we needed. We ended up throwing away Nancy's now dirty clothes with my internal promise that I'd buy her new stuff. We also threw out some of the trash we had picked up on the trip, and in the time we had spent wandering out the streets.

"When's Freddie get here?" I asked curiously.

"Ten thirty." Marion told me. She checked her husbands watch and then smiled frankly,. "That gives us about twenty minutes to get into town and find something to eat, and then get to the paddock without that homicidal farmer catching us."

Mutt shrugged, "We can handle him." He said. He flipped his switch blade in a sort of menacing way.

I swallowed again; more nervous about whatever he had planned for me, than what we were doing next.

Indy stuck his head out the window. "The real estate people are arriving…" He muttered. "We'll have to get out without them seeing us."

I groaned. "Excellent. More hiding."

We all grabbed something—I held the journal close to me—and made our way through the back door. Almost as soon as we had all entered the laundry that opened up to the back yard, I heard the front door click open and voices float through.

"What the—?" A mans voice said as he walked into the bathroom to find the shower still steaming and the mirror all fogged up. He had a very strong Italian Accent, but I could decipher his English. "Dammit. Carlos! We have had the squatters."

The term sounded old, but his anger sounded new and strong. "Hurry." I hissed, pushing Mutt out the door.

We crept around the backs of houses all the way down the block. We ducked behind large cardboard pictures of car and cut out people and finally made our way out of the new complex. We hurried down the populated blocks of the actual town and finally made it to the car. It had a ticket longed in the windscreen, under the wiper, but other than that it looked untouched.

We all climbed into the car and made our way back to the paddock. "You can remember where to go?" I asked Indy.

He smirked. "I'm good with memory," he said with a smirk.

I raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. When we pulled up, we managed to not awake the people inside the house. But Freddie's plane was flying towards us and if they weren't up now, they soon would be.

The light switch, however unneeded, switch on. "Go!" I urged and I pushed Mutt out of the car. We raced towards the plane, which was still in the process of landing. I could hear the angry Italian shouts as the man discovered the damage that had been done to his car.

Finally, the plane stopped and we all approached it, Freddie opening the door. As we walked towards it, I felt a hand run through my hair from behind me, and suddenly my hair was all messed up again.

"That's for using all the hot water, doll." Mutt said with a smirk.

I was scowling as I got onto the plane. Freddie laughed as he stared at me. "What happened to you?"

I glowered at him. "I stepped outside the cube." I told him through clenched teeth.

I'm sure that the small Italian man who had been chasing after the plane could hear Freddie's extremely amused laugh from the ground. My glare darkened, and I crossed my arms across my chest.

It's not fair.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **Seventh chapter completed. Please reviews with comments about these past chapters. I'm really interested in knowing what you guys think about this fic. I'm working on developing the relationship between Kitty and all the other characters. Freddie's second appearance, I'm afraid to say, will be extremely short. This plane trip to Paris is more of a time for Kitty to chat to Marion and Indy, rather than Freddie or Mutt.

Oh, and if you see any loopholes within the actual adventure side to this story, PLEASE tell me. I've been trying to work the kinks out of this story ever since it entered my mind, and I welcome any chance to improve it.

Cheers,

Grace:


	8. Labours of Herecules

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

The plane trip was just as nerve wracking the second time.

Once again I found myself hugging the bench that I sat on for comfort as we took off. Mutt was playing with his knife. "Would you cut that out?' I snapped at him.

He stared at me for a second, before rolling his eyes and stowing it in his jacket. "Cool it, Doll." He muttered. He leant back on the bench and closed his eyes, this time falling asleep. Indy and Marion looked relatively awake, after sleeping for the needed nine hours that night.

"You alright, kid?' Indy asked, from beneath his Fedora.

I chuckled nervously. "Uh…" I sighed. "Not so good with planes I guess…"

However, this time, I was tired enough from the running and the walking and the thrills that even after just waking up I managed to fall asleep pretty fast. Or, it could have been the special sleeping pill that Indy gave me.

He tossed me a small capsule. "Take one of those, Kid. They're new. Help with sleeping."

Before I knew what was happening, I was awake, and the plane was landing. The three Joneses were all awake, hurriedly organising the few things we had brought along with us. "Are we there yet?" I asked opening my eyes.

The Plane took a sudden dip, and I felt gravity change positions, pulling me diagonally down. Instantly I was tense, holding onto the bench frantically.

Mutt held up a hand. "Hey, doll. It's alright."

I took a shallow breath, and nodded my head tensely. "Right." I muttered, trying to convince myself more than I was attempting to acknowledge Mutt.

Marion smiled comfortingly at me. "Don't think about it…" She said with a smile. "We're in Paris. We're one step closer to finding your granddad. Focus on the positives."

I nodded, and focused on these things.

Soon enough, we were stationary. Of course, that was after my second mental breakdown, which involved me grabbing Mutt's arm in reassurance, as the plane touched down travelling at god knows how many miles per hour.

"Ouch doll," Mutt said when we had stopped. "Tight grip, you've got."

I let go of his arm, flushing with embarrassment.

This time, the plane had actually landed on a proper airstrip. When we got off, I could see the faint outline of an Airport, and the roar of larger and bigger planes was almost overwhelming. Plus, there was the new sensation of suddenly stepping into freezing cold temperatures.

"God…" I muttered, teeth already chattering. "Is it always this cold in Paris?" I asked looking around.

Mutt chuckled and leant close to me. "It's always this cold in _winter_, Doll." He said.

I frowned. _I knew that. _

As we walked towards the airport, I noticed that another French woman, watching from the door, wearing a uniform, staring snootily at me. I suddenly felt very self-conscious. "Oh god," I muttered. "I'm walking into _Paris,_ looking like I just slept in a barn…" I moaned quietly. "They're going to eat me alive."

I turned to see Mutt, walking with that annoying confident swagger a little ahead of me. "Mutt." I hissed. "Give me your comb."

Mutt scoffed. "Yeah right, doll."

Just like a guy to be protective of his _comb._ "Give me your _goddam_ comb." I ordered. "You caused this problem. You'll help fix it."

Rolling his eyes, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the comb. He handed it to me, a little grudgingly. I took it and ran it through my hair for a couple of second. The comb was greasy, from the grease that he pulled through his hair. But it smelt faintly like him, from the constant presence in his pocket, I suppose. I refrained from smelling it more deeply, just to not let him see what I was doing.

Almost reluctantly, I handed the comb back to him. He took it and put it back in his pocket. I walked past the French woman, and as soon as we were out of her sight, I hastily straightened my clothes again.

"Relax, doll." Mutt sighed.

I frowned, still pulling at the shirt that I was wearing. I looked alright if I was planning on going to do some dirty archaeology. But walking through the streets of Paris dressed like this? No, I would not relax.

Mutt seemed to notice. "I'm serious, doll. You'll give yourself a brain aneurism."

I was too worried about how I looked to even talk back to him. Plus, I wasn't entirely sure what an aneurism was.

"Doll?"

Oh, my god. They were all laughing at me. As well walked into the Paris Airport, I barley even realised that the temperature changed and I was warm again, now inside. I didn't notice anything but all the looks I was getting from onlooking French people.

"Kitty." Mutt said seriously. "You look fine. Now stop being shallow and get over yourself." He sounded annoyed.

I shrank. Number one, he had actually needed to use my name. But number two; I had just proved I was exactly what he thought. I had spent this entire time trying to prove I wasn't what he expected, but now I had just proved his point.

I was just some sort of shallow, materialistic girl who only cared about other people's opinions.

_Good work Kitty. _The voice in my head sounded strangely like Nancy, whenever she laughed at me for being a spaz.

I sighed, and followed the Jones silently through the Airport, while Indy directed us away from the Airport officials.

We hailed a cab once we were successfully out the other side of the airport. It hadn't taken much, just a bit of creeping behind other people and hiding behind inanimate objects. We all crammed into the taxi, and I instantly looked out the window. I was sitting next to Mutt, with his mother on the other side.

I looked out the window. I told myself that it was just to see if I could watch Freddie take off again, but I knew it wasn't that. I couldn't even look at much. Incidentally, it was my worrying about my looks that prevented me from saying goodbye or thankyou to Freddie.

"Are we going to stay in the same sort of accommodation as we did in Italy?" Marion asked Indy, aware that the Cabbie was probably listening.

Even if he said that he didn't speak English, we didn't know that for _sure,_ did we?

Indy shook his head. "No. I called ahead and made reservations in one of the hotels near the Louvre." He said. He winked at us. "We should be able to see the Museum very well." He laughed to himself, and I wanted to share a look with Mutt, like I had grown accustomed to doing in the past couple of days.

I kept my gaze firmly on the scenery whizzing past us.

It wasn't as though the cab stopped working just because I wasn't partaking in any vocabulary activity. No, on the contrary. The cab was buzzing with conversation. Indy and Marion were both talking over the seat, about what we'd do next, but in a way that wouldn't give anything away.

And Mutt had leant forward, and was speaking fluent French with the Cabbie. He was nodding and talking back.

The worst part was I didn't understand a word of what they were saying.

The cab pulled to a stop outside of the Louvre. From the pictures, I recognised it instantly, but it was so much more impressive than that. To detailed and intricate, but still so modern and fabulous. Standing in the presence of one of the most famous buildings in France and I couldn't take my eyes away. It was almost daunting.

"Wow…" I breathed out, staring at the building.

"Amazing, isn't it, Kid?" Dr. Jones said with a smirk.

I flushed. "Not as amazing and finding the stuff that goes in it," I muttered, as we made our way to the entrance.

As we entered, Mutt grabbed one of the museum maps. Beside the stack of maps were a little kid's puzzle and a whole thing of pencils to fill in the questions. _Franklin'll love that…_ I thought, grabbing one of the pencils and one of the quizzes, stowing them in my jacket pocket.

He looked at the map. "The Trials of Hercules are on one of the higher floors." He looked up and around. "The elevator's over there."

Indy nodded. "Right." He looked at me. "Got the keys, kid?"

I nodded and held up my index finger, as if to prove that they were still there. They were, sitting tightly on my finger as though that was their only purpose. Not to open up a cavern that led to the one of the missing wonder of the world. Not as the keys to some ancient pagan group of people searching for Salvation through their gods.

Indy nodded. "Alright. The museum's supposed to close soon." He frowned and looked down the hall. "I'm going to go to chat to one of the security guys. We'll be able to stay for a while later." He said with a grin. It was near six in the afternoon. The plan trip had taken up the majority of our day.

He walked off, so Marion, Mutt and I made our way towards the elevator. We found the Trials of Hercules fast enough. They were just as amazing as everything else in this museum. I stared up at the pictures of Hercules, carved into what were once the Metopes of the temple that was ultimately our final destination.

"_The Labours of Hercules,"_ they had been labelled. There was a short description of where they came from and the myths that followed the name 'Hercules.'

"Great." Mutt said, staring up at them. "So where do the rings go? We just stick them in his belly button or something?" He stared accusingly at the carvings, as though blaming them for this.

I rolled my eyes, reaching into my jacket pocket to pull out the journal. I wasn't good that the Greek that had stopped me in my tracks last time, but Indy had read it out loud, and I was beginning to make some sense of it.

"Well wait until Indy gets here." Marion said. "Goddammit Jones…" She muttered to herself. "Hurry up."

As if on cue, Indy appeared from the end of a tunnel. He looked a bit frantic. "Marion. They don't want us staying here. There are twenty guards down there waiting for the next elevator up here to come and kick us out. Help me convince them. You're better at French."

Marion rolled her eyes. "I'm better at everything, Jones." She muttered. Still, she marched down to him and they both disappeared. I opened my mouth to ask quickly for Dr. Jones's help, but he was gone.

Mutt rolled his eyes and walked over to me, pulling the journal from my hands. "Let me, Doll."

I felt a wave of irritation at the nickname. Even though he said it exactly the same way, it brought forth new meaning with its use.

"Alright…" He muttered, looking down at it. "It says…" He looked up at me. "We're looking for instruction right?"

I frowned at him. He gave me a grin before looking back down at the journal again. "You got the rings…" I nodded, holding them up, pulling them off my finger. "Alright…" He said again. "First go to the third panel."

I walked over, to the metope that depicted Hercules harnessing a doe, and frowned. "Right…" Mutt continued. "Is there a small arrow anywhere?"

I nodded, looking at the arrows that were strapped to Hercules's back. "Is there a small circle in the pouch that they sit in?" I examined the pouch and squealed with excitement when I saw it. I grinned leaning forward. A flash of red stopped me.

"There's a motion sensor." I said slowly.

Mutt looked up from the journal and swore. "Great." He muttered sarcastically. "It's just Fat city." He looked around the hall and then handed me the book. "Hang onto that page." He muttered.

He stalked down the hallway and made his way to a store room. He stared at it for a couple of seconds, trying the handle and everything. Finally, he pulled out his switch blade and pushed it through the slit between the door and the doorway. Manoeuvring the knife in a way that I didn't really catch, he suddenly had the door open.

I stared, impressed. He vanished inside the room for a second. There was a loud thump, and suddenly the red light that had stopped me went out. He exited the room, looking extremely proud of himself.

"Being a delinquent has its upsides, doll." He said, taking the book from my hands.

I just stared at him.

"Well?" He demanded. "Are you going to put that key in there or what?"

I turned around, blushing, and looked at the hole in the arrow pouch. I reached forward, dreading any alarm that made sound. There wasn't a sound, except for the sound of metal against rock as I pushed it into the small circle.

Mutt nodded, grinning. "Right." He looked back into the journal. "Now go to the fifth panel…" I walked over to the metope that depicted Hercules wrestling with a white bull. I flinched looking at the exaggerated fat bull. "Is there a mark on the Bull's left horn?" Mutt asked.

I examined it closely, and found there was. Without even waiting for the next instruction, I pushed the second ring in.

"And the Eleventh Panel?" Mutt said. I walked down towards it, Mutt walking behind me. This panel depicted Hercules underneath an Apple tree. "This ones a bit hazy. I don't really dig it." He muttered. "It just says one of the apples."

I nodded. "Look at it then." I said, pointing to the apples. There were only three or four apples there, but no obvious marks. I leaned closer to it, but I couldn't find any hole for the final ring.

"Hang on…" Mutt said. "There." He pointed at something in Hercules's hand. It was a small circle shape, with a small stick coming out the top. "Is that supposed to be a tiny apple?" He asked.

I shrugged, but pushed the ring over it. It fit perfectly, and as I pushed the final ring in the three rings glowed blue. Mutt and I stepped back instinctively, watching with wide eyes.

The rings were being pulled into the holes, further than I could reach. The blue glow was softening, but there was the distinct sound of rock moving against rock. "Down there!" Mutt said loudly, and we hurried down to the sixth and Seventh panels, in the middle of the exhibition. The blue light had faded completely now, the rings vanished. We stared into what ever was going on at the Sixth and Seventh carvings of Hercules's Labours.

They were folding away, the sides that framed the pictures staying stationary while the actual depiction was pulled backwards. Then, the rock stopped moving backward and Mutt stared at the walls.

"You got a pen, doll?" He asked.

I nodded, grabbing the pencil that I had grabbed for the quiz for Franklin. I held it up. "What for?"

He stared at the sides, where the rock had once been. "There's some words carved here." He said. He frowned, reading the Greek. "Write this down…" He ordered. I grabbed the journal from his hands and pulled it open to an empty page—right after when Arqim (the Salvaator) stopped writing.

"The sun will rise in the East, only after passing West." Mutt said slowly, as he translated. I wrote that hastily down and looked up at him expectantly. "Under that write… Choose of pure intent." I nodded and scribbled that down. "Then, The Trusted watch your path to Truth, and then, The Strongest of your party shall see you through."

"That it?" I asked, looking up at him. He nodded. I frowned down at the journal, looking at the sentences that I had written down."

The Sun will rise in the East, only after passing West.

Choose of pure intent

The Trusted watch your path to Truth

The Strongest of your Party will see you through.

…

_Well,_ I thought. _Ain't that just Boss…?_

I turned back to the panels where I had put the rings. "Do I get the keys back?" I asked. I reached forward, to the apple, and pressed my finger into the stone inside the circle. In a matter of seconds, the stone was moving again, much faster than before.

"Look—" Mutt, whose head had been examining the inscription up til that point, jumped hastily out of the way of the heavy rock. The rock slammed and was silent again, and Mutt stared at where his head had been moments before. "—out?" I finished.

He glowered at me.

The rings had been pushed back out and I pulled them all out and put them back on my finger.

"We're done. We can get into the Cavern now." I said excitedly to Mutt. "We can see the Statue of Zeus. We'll be famous. Franklin will be famous."

I grinned at Mutt for a second, and he momentarily grinned back. Then his grin faded, upon spotting something behind me. I froze, almost dreading turning around. Slowly, I stowed the journal back in my pocket.

"I do believe, Miss Roberts, that it is _I_ who will be famous for this discovery," A cold harsh voice rang out through the empty halls.

I spun around, suddenly needing to see who was talking to me. A man, dressed in a long black suit, with greying hair stared at me. In his left hand, making him look that much more superior was a long black stick. Whether it was a walking stick, or simple decoration, I wasn't sure but it did both jobs. His hair was slicked back, but not in the same way as Mutts. No, his hair was grey, and wispy, brushed in a gross fashion across his forehead.

He was staring at me with a sort of scary smile. Behind him stood four men in suits. I recognised two of them—the man who chased me in the park was standing to the Boss-man's left. To his right was the man who had followed me around in Marshall College. I noticed a large bruise on his forehead, from the collision with the door, I could only assume.

"We've been looking for you for a long time, Miss Roberts." The man said with a perverted smile.

I took a step back, only to bump into a new body that I hadn't realised was there. Five more suits blocked both mine and Mutt's way out of this. I took a shaky breath. "Why?" Mutt asked loudly. "What do you want with her?"

I stared at the man, awaiting his answer. "At first, it was because we knew she was the proper leverage to make her Grandfather show us exactly where we needed to go to find the lost Statue of Zeus."

My stomach swooped. They had Franklin.

"But," The man continued. "It would seem that in our failure to capture you, it was us who were benefitted. You've successfully lead us to exactly what we wanted. And in les time then I think your Grandfather would have done." He sighed, "He's an old man now." He then shrugged it off. "And, to make this moment even more fabulous… you've successfully introduced me to Dr. Henry Jones's son."

He smirked at Mutt. "A bit of a disappointment…" He said eyeing Mutt's jacket.

Mutt looked ready to hit the old man.

"So," The old man continued. "Perhaps we should reconvene elsewhere. I don't think your parents will be able to hold off the guards for much longer. Such a shock, it will be, when they return to find you both gone."

He smiled at Mutt, who was fuming with unvented anger.

The man smirked. "Take them away."

Strong hands on my shoulders and arm pulled me backwards, and another covered my mouth. I noticed three men giving the same treatment to Mutt. As we were both lifted off the floor and taken down the hallway, I could only stare with a worried expression at Mutt and wonder what was coming next.

At least I knew that I would be reunited with Franklin. A part of me was telling me that them finding us was a good thing. I could see whether or not Franklin was safe.

Then my brain kicked in and I hated myself for being so selfish.

We were carried out of the museum, in a surprisingly outstanding fashion. Not the way I would have done it if I were this man. Parading two people tied up and kidnapped, so obviously to the many onlookers.

I was pushed into a black car with tinted windows. Mutt was thrown in after men, and I pushed myself off the seat just in time to avoid his feet colliding with my head.

I stared in horror as the men in black got into the front seat and we drove away. I had time to scramble to the window, in time to see both Marion and Indy running after us. I slammed my palms against the back windshield shouting out.

Mutt had recovered and was now frantically trying the door. He pulled out his switchblade, but that did nothing to improve our situation either. He growled slightly, and dropped the switchblade back in his pocket.

Marion looked extremely distraught as the cars got faster and faster, until they had no hope of following us.

I looked over at Mutt. "Now what?" I asked with a worried look at the men in front of us.

Mutt stared at his parent's forms, getting smaller and smaller in the distance. He looked at the Louvre, and then out the front window to see the other three cars in front of us.

He let out a low sigh. "We try not to be too fragile, doll."

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **See? We're getting into the more complicated parts of the plot. I hope you guys understand exactly where I'm coming from. Plus the Romance is growing as well. I particularly enjoyed writing that segment about Molly and Richard's past life—before the crash.

By the way, I do apologise for that resemblance to a Mary Sue. The dying parent's and unforgotten trauma of her lost loved ones? I know it gets a bit tiring. I needed a way to bring in one of Indy's old teachers, but give her some connection to the OC that I wanted to bring in.

I tried writing it with the parents but they ended up just getting in the way and making this story even MORE prolonged with information you guys technically didn't need. So I wrote them out. And I brought the plane crash in to make Kitty a bit more relatable, and specifically for her earlier conversation with Freddie.

But, I just want to make it clear that Kitty is entirely over her parent's death. Of course she'll miss them, but she's accepted it and has moved on with her life.

I'm also trying to bring to light the insecurities she has. Like about her appearance, and who she's become (a cube) and also about Mutt's perspective on her. Also the afraid of planes aspect? I figured, I'm deadly afraid of flying, and I'm quite obviously not perfect, so why don't I stick that little bit in there. Plus, it makes her more relatable to heaps of readers, I've been told.

One more thing. I've never been to Paris, and I've never seen the Labours of Hercules. Everything I research says that they're in the Louvre but I obviously can't get any pictures. Most of the descriptions of the Metopes are just guesswork on my behalf, combined with everything that Google and Wikipedia tells me.

I hope you review with your thoughts.

Thanks for reading this far along,

Grace:


	9. Avoiding the Authorities

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

I didn't look up from the bottom of the car until we stopped. The Rings, still safe on my finger, were providing me with a small sense of comfort. Also, the fact that Mutt was here and didn't seem to be having too much trouble with treating me like a normal person again, was kind of helping improve my mood.

I flinched. Not that I wanted to be treated like a _normal_ person.

I folded my arms across my chest, and looked up. We were at the side of the river. I could see the bridge to the other half of Paris a little way down the road. One said road were three more black cars driving towards us.

"What do you suppose is in there?" I asked Mutt quietly.

Mutt looked at the car when I asked this. Then he sighed. "I think the better question is _who_ do they have in those cars."

I frowned. Franklin? Could Franklin be that close to me now? Only a couple of cars apart from me. I felt the compulsion to knock out the two men in the front and race to the car that held my elderly grandfather. If these people treated two relatively fit people, like Mutt and I, like this, than how had they been treating Franklin?

The cars pulled to a stop on the opposite side of the road to us. Six suits exited the cars, two from each car. But only the two in the middle walked back to the passenger seat and opened the doors, pulling someone out.

I inhaled sharply upon seeing Franklin for the first time in two weeks.

Franklin, apparently, had been quite a looker in his day. He told me stories about how other girls had been very jealous of my grandmother when he had proposed. Most of his good looks had faded, him being in his seventies, but he was still decent looking for an old guy. I was proud to be his granddaughter.

He looked a bit thinner than usually, and he had some bruises across his face. I stared in horror as I realised that they must have been from someone hitting him. I let out a large breath, and Mutt patted my shoulder awkwardly. "You know how to punch now, doll?"

I sighed. "As if I could ever _punch_ someone."

Of course I couldn't punch someone. I could run as far as they pushed me, but I doubted I would ever be able to turn around and fight with them. Defend myself. Mutt was pretty good, to be predicted how _fragile_ I really was.

I was distracted from my thoughts as the door was pulled open, and rough hands grabbed me and pulled me out. I stumbled as the nameless suit pushed me towards my Grandfather, and the old man. "I believe I have something of yours, Franklin?" I heard the old man say.

"Kat." Franklin said urgently. I pulled my arm away from the man who was holding my arm, a stroke of luck, and then ran to Franklin before they could grab me again. I latched my arms around his neck and smelt the familiar smell. Lime, pepper, and cigars.

"You better be alright." I said. "Otherwise I'll make Mutt kick their asses."

Mutt snorted from where he had been brought over. Then he nodded. "I'll do it, too." He said seriously. I smiled at him, and then looked back to my Granddad.

"I hate to break up this reunion." The old man said, "But I just wanted the little Katerina here, to see her Granddaddy's face when he finds out that Little Kat showed us exactly where to go. I didn't even need you, Frank."

I watched as Franklin's face fell and he looked in horror at the old man. Suddenly, my stomach dropped through my bum and I felt horrible. This was Franklin's life work and I had just given it away to another person.

It was my fault that they had the next clues. And they were obviously going to take us along just to spite all of us. All the Roberts and all the Jones.

"Take them back to the car." The old man said with a smirk. He turned and walked to the stretch Limo that we had travelled behind the entire time.

I couldn't even look Franklin in the eye until we were in the car. Mutt, Franklin and I sat sitting facing each other in another limo.

Why they were giving their hostages limos to ride in I had no idea.

"Bloody show offs." Mutt muttered, answering my inward query. "They've put us in here, just to show us another way that the guy thinks he's superior to us. Plus, he wants to come across civilised."

I shook my head. That was fake. I saw the guns beneath the suit's jackets.

I couldn't even acknowledge Mutt's words though. I was too busy staring at Franklin. "I'm Sorry." I said dejectedly. My voice broke.

Franklin shook his head instantly. "Don't apologise, Kat…" He told me. "You did the right thing. You did everything I asked you to. I'm only upset because I sent you that note to get you out of this situation. And here you are…"

I shook my head. "It was my idea. I begged the Jones to let me come, and they even gave me the choice of just sitting at their home in Bedford."

Franklin grinned. "I don't think I should have expected you would just stay home."

Why not though? Anyone else that knew me would have? I'm the social norm. I'm the square. The Cube. The Clyde. Sitting at home would be practically expected of me from anyone else.

I smiled at him, never the less. "I'm still sorry. I know this was important to you. I shouldn't have let that man follow us so easily."

Franklin seemed to be very frustrated at this stage. "You wouldn't have escaped him. The man's like an animal." He clenched his teeth. "I knew that when I was his friend and we were young, and I know it now, when our relationship is the complete opposite."

I stared at him. "Friends? You were his friend?"

Franklin nodded, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them with the edge of his jacket. "Hugh Sawyer, and I went to the same college. He was a few years below me, but I tutored him in archaeology."

Wow. So they were old acquaintances.

"I married your grandmother and moved away. I didn't get employed for about two years. We just travelled and enjoyed life." Franklin smiled wistfully, and then his expression darkened. "When we returned to New York, I applied for the job at New York University. I wanted to be the head of the Archaeology department."

I nodded. That much I already knew.

"I got the job," Franklin continued with a sigh. "I didn't find out until many years later, that the man I replaced had been fired to make room for me." He sighed again. "That man was Mr. Hugh Sawyer."

I swallowed. Oh, this was not good.

"He held a grudge. An extremely long grudge. He had time to dwell on it, and when he found me looking for the same thing he was looking for in Rome, he wasted no time. I found myself drugged, bound and gagged. I managed to escape for a couple of hours in which time I had to send you the letters and the map."

Franklin looked up at me. "What have they done with Henry?" He asked.

Mutt shook his head. "Don't worry, Prof." He said. "They didn't get Dad or Mum. And if I know my parents they'll be on their way right now."

There was a gunshot as if to emphasise his point. Mutt grinned. "Right on time." He said. He pulled his switchblade out. "Come on." He grabbed my hand and slowly opened the door. I looked at Franklin to see him cautiously getting out the other door.

"Alright…" I muttered. "What now?"

A vespa drove up to the other side of the limo. "Nice to see you again Franklin." Marion said cheerfully.

"Marion!" Franklin expressed, surprised. "You're married to Henry?"

Marion nodded. "Jones won me over in the end. Mind you, it took on illegitimate child and the threat of Russian Communists to finally bring us together in holy matrimony…"

Franklin's eyebrows disappeared into his faded hairline.

"Get on." She said.

There was an explosion from behind us as two of the black cars that had started up to chase Indy collided and exploded. I stared with wide eyes.

Sawyer had exited his car and saw the four of us outside the other Limo. "Get them," He ordered angrily, pointing at us.

Franklin was already seated on the Vespa. "We'll be fine, Mum." Mutt reassured Marion. "Go."

Marion nodded and sped off, down the streets, with another black car on her tail. "We'll see you at _Café le Pointe_," She muttered to us.

"Come on." Mutt urged, pulling me away from the gunshots and the explosions. We took off down the Parisian Cobblestone Street, which was already swarming with suits ready to follow us. We weren't going to take any risks this time. It was just a way to get out. Not look impressive in the process.

"Where are we going?" I asked quietly, as we ran down the street. I could hear the heavy footsteps that were gaining on us.

"Give me a second, Doll." Mutt sounded a little annoyed. "I'm pretty much improvising."

Oh. That's comforting.

I voiced my opinion and he just chuckled darkly. "You want to sit down and have a conference about it, doll?" he suggested patronisingly. "We could do some very effective mind mapping."

"Okay…" I muttered. "…We'll do things your way."

Mutt nodded. "Course we will…" He muttered, thinking I wouldn't hear him.

I would have talked to him about the way he spoke to me, after working up the right amount of courage but I never got the chance. Instead I let out a small scream, as the suits cut us off. Mutt pushed me aside as one of them lifted his gun. The deafening bang caused the some of the suits who had been tailing us to let out shouts of surprise before falling backwards.

Mutt smirked slightly, as we sprinted around the street corner, and Mutt pushed me down an alley. I frowned, pulling him to a stop. "This is a dead end."

Mutt had been preoccupied watching the entrance, trying to see when the suits would show up. He spun around, saw the dead end and cursed colourfully.

"What do we do?" I demanded in a shrill hiss.

"You be quiet…" He advised, pushing me backwards into the alley. I felt shadows from the darkening sky cover me and then I couldn't even decipher Mutt's face.

I felt protected as he pushed his body in front of mine. He must have felt so exposed and vulnerable showing his back to the suits, who could come around the corner at any second.

"What's going on?" I asked.

I watched his head straighten a bit, as what must have been a good idea, struck him. I stared at him with wide eyes. I was panicking.

"Don't move, doll." Mutt muttered. He froze, and turned his back, looking out at the mouth of the alley. Some suits ran past, obviously not too worried about their fallen comrades.

One man was limping, however, and this meant that he was slower than the rest. He glanced down the alley we were hiding in and frowned, staring down in it for a while.

I held my breath. Even breathing provided too much opportunity to be spotted. I refrained from twitching or breathing until the Suit shrugged off whatever he saw and kept walking.

"They didn't…" I muttered astonished.

"Give me some credit, doll." Mutt said, already doing something else. He shrugged off his jacket, and disposed it on the floor beside our feet.

"How…?" I began again.

"I'm pretty good at blending, doll." Mutt said. "I am the son of _the _Indiana Jones."

I frowned. That wasn't a real answer. That was more of an excuse. I heard echoed steps and Mutt cursed again. "Take your jacket off." He ordered.

I frowned. "What?"

"Take your goddam jacket off." Mutt repeated through clenched teeth. I frowned, but shrugged my jacket off, very confused.

I dropped it on the ground with his. He bent over and covered my lighter jacket with his black one, successfully making it invisible to outside eyes. "What's going on?" I hissed.

"They're doubling back." Mutt said out loud. "They think that we've hidden somewhere… which we have. They're checking."

I considered swearing, but I didn't. "We go back the way we came. Some of the others will have been there. We'll have to go the way we went first."

I frowned. "How are we going to get past them?" I demanded.

Mutt rolled his eyes. "Look. I know I'm a Greaser and everything. But I honestly can't think of any other way. It'll explain why we're all out of breath, and why we're in an alley—together no less."

I frowned, confused.

"And, I promise I'll act like your stupid football captain." He continued. "And I won't tell anyone, in case it damages your rep."

Damages my…?

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

Mutt stared at me for another second. "It doesn't mean _anything._"

I stared at him. Was he on drugs? Has they drugged him when I wasn't looking. Was he insane? What was he talking about?

"Did anyone check this alley? I think I see something—?"

I felt Mutt's mouth on mine, lips crashing down on my own. The voices in the background were suddenly not as important as it had been. I concentrated on the Greaser who was kissing me.

Even though I knew it was a bad idea, I felt myself kissing him back. My hands reached for his white t-shirt, pulling him a little bit closer to me.

In any other situation, I would have thought about what my friend would have said. About what Scott would have thought? What would they have thought? They would have stared at me like I was contaminated with Cooties.

His kiss grew more intense. I could feel his panic and his worry coming through. I'm sure he could feel my worrying as well. I was still completely confused as to what was going on, but I wasn't going to complain.

"Is that—?" A voice cut through my thoughts.

"No. It's just two stupid teenagers." Another of the suits said to his friend.

"Really? It could be—"

The other one cut him off. "No. They weren't wearing that."

I didn't stop kissing him, even as the suits footsteps retreated and I knew that they weren't coming back. All I could focus on was that Mutt really was a _wonderful_ kisser.

Then my mind came back and I reluctantly pushed him away. The thought of any kisses that may follow this entered my mind, but I hastily pushed it away.

Mutt laughed, reaching down and grabbing our jackets. He threw it to me and winked. "That worked like a charm." He said with a grin.

Reality crashed down on me like a big rock crashing down on my head.

He hadn't kissed me because he _wanted _to. He hadn't kissed me because he was interested in me in the slightest. We didn't look like the two kids of archaeologists that they were looking for then. We looked like two horny teenagers going at it in an alleyway.

That's why we had taken off our jackets. So we weren't even wearing the same clothes as before.

For a second, I had actually believed he was decent.

Of course I would never let the _stupid greaser_ figure it out. I would act disgusted, just so he knew what it was like to be treated inferiorly.

"Let's go."

I scowled at him, but permitted him to pull me by the hand, out of the alleyway.

**xXxXx**

We managed to dodge them successfully after that. The suits must have decided that going over where we had run for a third time was a bad idea.

Which was terrific luck for us.

We had called managed to track down Marion, by meeting up at the _Café le Pointe._ She, Indy and Franklin had successfully gotten out of their high speed vespa chase with only a bullet shot to the tyre of the vespa they had hired.

When they had seen us, they had grabbed us both in such tight hugs I thought I might just have the life squeezed out of me. And now, Franklin wasn't letting me further away from him that thirty centimetres in all directions.

"I'm so glad you're safe Henry." Marion had gushed. It was amusing watching Mutt not protest to the use of his name.

A little bit of the payback that I couldn't give to him myself. I cold laugh and watch as he was forced to endure the name that he disliked.

It was shallow, and basically superficial, but what else could I do.

It was pretty obvious now that Mutt had the control in the semi-balanced relationship we had formed. He knew what to say, and it would embarrass me. When I tried to turn the table on him, he flipped it back and embarrassed me further.

There wasn't an argument that I could win. He was still calling me doll, even though I had called him Mutt, like he had requested. I had stopped laughing at him about his hair, but he could still call me fragile whenever he wanted.

"So…" Franklin's voice distracted me. "What have you figured out?"

I straightened my back, ready to part take in the conversation and not think about gross perverted greasers with too much… _grease_ in their hair.

I pulled out the journal and Indy started talking. "We figured out your clue on the map. We went to Taranto and we found the grave of the dead Salvaator Man?"

Franklin grinned, the grin he always grinned when he discovered something new. "Really?" He said. "It was a hunch. I read a few sources from around that time, and I heard of a pagan man being buried in a Christian cemetery, from one of those early sources."

Indy grinned at Franklin. "It was a good hunch. We found the Salvaator's journal."

Franklin looked ecstatic. "And that lead you here? To France?"

Indy nodded. "It has directions, Franklin. Directions that will help us uncover the Statue of Zeus. If we can get to it before Sawyer, than it'll be the greatest archaeological find in decades."

Franklin was practically glowing now. I grinned, seeing him so happy. "Mutt and I put the rings in the Labours, just like the journal said." I finished for him.

Indy frowned looking at us. He hadn't asked us about what had happened inside, obviously distracted by Sawyer's sudden appearance. But now it was an excellent moment for me, and the _greaser_ to tell him.

"There were four sentences engraved in the side, after the rings did their thing and revealed them…" I continued. "We wrote them down in the journal."

Indy smiled to himself, "You hang on to that journal, kid." He advised. "Because that had led to problems in the past."

We all looked at him confused. He just grinned and shook his head. "Let's hear them, kid." He said.

Mutt cleared his throat. "Right. So there was… _The Sun rises in the East, only after passing West._"

I nodded. "Then there was _Choose of Pure intent_, and _the Trusted watch your path to Truth_."

Mutt nodded. "And then there was _The Strongest of your party shall guide you through."_

He tried to make eye contact with me, but I looked away quickly. I snapped the journal close, frowning at it. When I looked back up, Mutt looked frustrated.

Marion sighed. "We should get back to the hotel and get some sleep." She suggested. "Any ideas on how we'll get to Olympia?"

Franklin grinned. "Commercial flights are very enjoyable."

Indy frowned, and I remembered his last comment that talked about commercial flights. _"Well, kid, I can't stand the peanuts." _

But before Indy could repeat this, Marion was standing up. "Sounds good. I'll call in from the Hotel and get us some tickets. I'm owed a favour."

Mutt and Indy both stared at her. "What _for?_" Indy demanded.

Marion just grinned, and turned her back. That wasn't for Indy. He stood up hastily and walked after her. "Marion. Stop—What favour?"

Franklin chuckled. "I'll go split up the kids." He said, standing from his chair and following Indy and Marion.

That left Mutt and I, sitting awkwardly at the table. There was a moment's silence and I decided I was getting out of there.

"Well—" I began.

"You think I wouldn't have done it some other way, if I could, doll?" he demanded. "You think that this was all an elaborate plot for me, a dirty greaser, to kiss you?"

What?

He shook his head. "It wasn't. I got us out of there. We'd be dead if it weren't for me, or worse, with Sawyer and his goons. So, don't you dare get all kookie on me now because _you know _that it worked."

My jaw dropped. I finally found my voice. "You…" I started. "I…"

He shook his head.

"I don't care if you think I'm beneath you, doll. Because I know that I saved our asses, and I know that I did the right thing. If I had left it up to you, I'm pretty sure I would have been the bait, to distract them while you got away." He continued venomously.

This wasn't happening. He was turning this back on me as well.

"And you know what, doll?" he continued. "I've been decent to you. I taught you how to punch. I helped you find Dr. Jones. And, I saved your life. But you're just too goddam shallow to notice any of that."

He shook his head again. "Maybe, doll, you should consider just _growing up._"

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **Wow. That was interesting now wasn't it? I hope you aren't too confused with how Kitty's developed. Basically, she was once really confident and sure of where she stood in life, and then she talked with Mutt, and Freddie and she realised that she wasn't as set as she thought. And now she's working on becoming that same confident person, but not so shallow or angry.

As for the actual adventure side, now you've finally met Franklin as an old man. I hope that I've still managed to keep them in character, even though I feel as though I've failed in that aspect.

Also, the kiss between Mutt and Kitty? That's more of a way to move their relationship along. For those of you who enjoy reading about their relationship, I hope you liked it.

Please review and tell me your thoughts.

Cheers,

Grace.


	10. Discovery Race

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

We pulled up at a nice looking hotel, and I quickly got out of the cab. The Jones's and Franklin followed.

"Indy?" Marion said, obviously shocked. "How are we going to pay for this?"

I seconded that. When I asked for the Jones's help, I didn't expect first class treatment. But it looked as though I was going to get it.

The building was at least ten stories high—probably higher but I couldn't see that far up. Fountains and archways decorated the entrance, and lights made the building look as though it was a soft pink. Trees decorated it, making it look like a wonderland, especially with the snow.

"Don't have to." Indy answered. "I've got connections. They guy who just bought it, is a guy who I helped out of a sticky situation when I was in Antarctica. He has a deadly fear of Penguins, and there were a couple of them right outside his igloo."

"I love your connections…" Marion sighed, staring up at the hotel.

Indy frowned. "I'm not sure what I think about yours…" He muttered.

Marion grinned.

The Cabbie honked, and Indy hastily spun round to pay the man. The rest of us made our way into the hotel.

Indy gradually caught up with us, and we walked to the front desk. "Hi. We've got a reservation for three rooms, under Jones." He said. The man behind the counter frowned.

"I can't seem to find you—" he began, in rough English.

Indy waved his comment aside. "Call Josef Gonzalez… Tell him Indiana Jones is here."

The man made the phone call and within seconds I found myself being ushered onto an elevator with the three Jones's. "Monsieur Gonzalez says to thankyou once again for the help, and he hopes that the hotel will satisfy your needs."

I grinned at Dr. Jones. "Exactly how many people owe you favours?" I asked excitedly. "Your life must be boss."

Indy grinned. "Thanks, kid." He never did answer the question though.

Franklin laughed. "Such is the life of an arrogant young archaeologist, Kat. Never forget that every job has its perks."

And its downsides, I thought bitterly, risking a glance at Mutt.

He hadn't looked at me since his explosion in the Café. We had caught all sorts of strange looks from the Paris people in the cafe, who really didn't have a clue what he was saying. But they saw my reaction, and luckily enough for me, they reacted angrily toward Mutt.

I was ready to cry back at the Café. But Franklin, Indy and Marion had returned and they had suddenly decided that we were creating too much attention and needed to get out of there.

We hailed a cab, but not all of us fit inside, considering there was now five of us. So Franklin, who looked exhausted, got in the first of two cabs, followed closely by Indy and Mutt.

Marion and I went in the other. Then Indy decided that it was unsafe for both of the women to go without a 'guardian' and joined us in the second cab.

"Good work on getting out of there, kid." Indy said as soon as the car had started. We were all crammed in the back seat now.

I sighed. "It was mostly Mutt, as embarrassing as that sounds." I grinned slightly; glad to be free of his annoying presence.

Marion chuckled, shaking her head. "You're just like your mother, Kitty." She told me with a sigh.

I hesitated, my grin fading a bit .I struggled to remain calm—but offhanded mention of my mother often did the complete opposite. I forced the grin to remain on my face. "Really?" I asked, "How?"

I didn't have to feign interest. I was very _interested _in how I was like my mother. She died when I was sixteen, at an age when I spent the majority of my time thinking she was a psychotic alien dinosaur with nothing in common with me. And I had no hesitation in letting her know how I felt.

Marion sighed. "You're so…" She sighed. "I don't know… you just remind me of her."

While this response would have bothered some people—the people awaiting an answer that would help them know what their lost ones were like—I felt a warm sort of feeling spread through me.

To know that I could connect with her, to the point where I perhaps resembled her was almost self fulfilling.

I smiled at her. "How did you know her?"

Marion smiled, almost wistfully. "Franklin and Abner,"—I could only assume he was her father—"were good friends when Molly and I were both young. It meant that we spent a lot of time growing up together."

I smiled wider now, no longer having to force my expression. "What was she like?" I asked curiously. "When she was young, I mean."

Marion grinned. "She was quiet. But when she had something to say, that was important to her, she made it known. She completely hated your father when they met. He was technically, below her, and she made it known. But he won her over. No one was more surprised than Molly, when she accepted to see him again. I think after she accepted his marriage proposal, she sat in her room in shock for three days."

I grinned. From what I could remember—the laughter, the smiles and the love between my parents—that side of their relationship sounded out of place.

But if I focused on the arguments that they had, the ones I tried to block from my memory, it would easy enough to find the hidden sparks of annoyance beneath all that love.

"That sounds like her…" I said fondly.

Marion and Indy both smiled, amused. "She would be extremely proud of you, Kitty." Marion said with a smile. "Doing all this to make sure your Granddad's alright."

I smiled faintly back at her. "Any one would do it."

Marion shook her head. "It's amazing the strength you've showed. Don't let anyone tell you that what you've done isn't worth anything."

I sighed. Would she say the same thing if she knew it was her son who said it?

"Did you know my dad?" I asked.

Not many people talked to me about Richard. I heard that he was a good man. I knew that he had shielded my mother in the crash with his own body—and action which killed him instantly— and I know that my mother loved him very much. He was a school teacher. He taught maths for a few years of his life, before he applied for the job as principle. People told me that they loved him. That they thought him to be a hero. There was still a shrine in that school, dedicated to their principal.

My dad.

Indy nodded. "We went to the same college. Of course, he wasn't very interested in Archaeology. But I saw him occasionally, figuring out quadratic equations and what not."

I smiled at the thought of my father, the nerd, studying at lunch time with his friends. It was a nice sight.

"He was extremely convinced of his own skills." Indy continued. "He knew that he was an excellent mathematician, and he didn't hide away from it."

Marion laughed. "Molly always called him the most obnoxious boy she had ever met. She hated him for the first many years of their acquaintanceship. Constantly telling him exactly what she thought of him."

"That's what made him love her." Indy said. "Her determination to make him look like a fool. In any other man, it would be irritating, but not Richard. He loved her, and he didn't hide away from that, either."

It was almost as good as a romantic novel. Boy adores girl. Girl detests boy. They end up falling in love and then, tragically, die in a plane crash together leaving their fifteen year old daughter behind.

"Franklin said that he always liked Dad." I said with a grin.

Indy nodded. "He admired Richard's spirit. He told me that any man willing to brave the wroth of his Molly, was a good match for his daughter. He also thinks that Richard's spirit passed to you."

I almost laughed sarcastically, but for the sake of not being rude, I nodded and grinned. "Thank you, Dr. Jones." I said with a smile.

Indy smiled. "Don't mention it, Kid."

**xXxXx**

I sat in my own room, about three minutes after talking to the people at concierge. It was a wonderful room.

The interior obvious designed by some famous man who was fabulous at his job. The couch was black leather, and there was a shag pile carpet in front of it. The TV sat in front of it, with a guide beneath the remote.

_It had a remote. _

It was all in one large room, with a large wall going through half of the room. There was a small suite area with a bathtub, Shower and toilet inside, located just beside the bed. The bed was a large canopy, with many black and white pillows all over it.

As promising as the concept of TV with a remote sounded, I was too exhausted to actually watch it. It wouldn't really interest me anyway.

All I could think of was how normal I was.

Freddie had been right. I was a cube. I couldn't imagine any moment, aside from the past couple of days, where I had ever done anything adventurous. I mean, I had spent the majority of my time in Middle school working to get in the good books of the people I thought would be the Cheerleaders in high school.

I had been right, and my work had paid off, letting me get a part in the team. I spent the next years of my life, working harder on impressing all the right people, than on my education. No one had been more shocked than me when the university I had applied to, actually let me in.

And then, when I had gone to college it was the same deal. She hung out with the jets, but only the pretty ones, like Nancy and Karen. And of course she had made it her goal to date the good looking blonde captain of the Football team. It didn't matter if he was a jackass, who looked at my boobs whenever I walked towards him and my ass whenever I walked away from him.

And her friends, they were _still_ Cheerleaders. They entered into a club which had boys with even larger arms and they wore even shorter skirts.

I was exactly what everyone expected me to be.

But hey—who were _they_ to tell me it? Freddie and Mutt?

Freddie, I barley knew for three minutes before he got into that massive rant about me and my being too much of the social norm. I got every part of me taken out and dissected by a guy that I didn't even know.

And Mutt? He judged me without even telling me about it. And he was open about it to everyone else. Like his parent's. When Indy first told him they were going to help me I could hear his yell of protest. He thought I was a stupid little girl. I was a stupid little girl who couldn't handle any of this. And then I'm fragile, and he's helping me out and we're sort of acting like friends.

And then I make one mistake and he goes off and pulls a tantrum worthy of a paper shaker.

I got up from my bed, where I had fallen to reel in all my thoughts.

I wasn't going to let him think about me as the little fragile doll he obviously thought I was. I would prove to him that I wasn't as small and helpless as he thought. I pushed the door open and made my way down the hall to his door, which was right beside mine.

I knocked on his door, my stomach fluttering and my heart thumping in my chest. I heard creaks of whatever he was sitting on lift, and then I heard his heavy footsteps coming towards the door. He pulled it open and stared down at me.

My memory wiped. His raised eyebrow and the smell of leather was my kryptonite. He could disarm me by just looking at me.

"What is it, doll?" He asked.

I stared at him, suddenly not sure of what I was here to do. I pushed my memory into gear and it ran to me like a stampede of animals. I swallowed, nervously. "Can I come in?" I asked, anxiously.

Mutt looked at me for a moment, silent. Then he nodded and opened the door, holding it open for me to enter. I took another deep breath and walked into the room.

The piece of furniture which he had been seated on was quite obviously the couch. The TV was on, and there was an opened packet of crisps sitting on the table. I swallowed again, attempting to dry my throat.

"So…" Mutt said, leaning on the back of the couch. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, doll?"

I continued to look at him. He was staring at me, his eyebrow raised. He looked incredibly carefree as he sat there, his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms holding him up on the couch. I inhaled deeply and then dove in.

"I heard what you said." I said quickly.

He frowned, in confusion. "What did I say?" He asked.

"You said that that I was a _stupid, superficial, shallow paper-shaker."_ I said. Reminding myself of his harsh words made me angry, and more upset at the same time. I stood a little straighter, not feeling so exposed in his room. In his foreign presence.

Mutt's eyes widened in realisation. "That was back in Bedford, doll." He said slowly.

I nodded. This was me, proving my _own_ point. This was me telling him, _proving _to him, that I wasn't quite as fragile as he automatically assumed.

I straightened my back and fixed him with my best glare. This was me stepping outside the cube. This was me proving myself. I was proving my worth. "I just wanted to let you know," I continued, "that I don't appreciate it." I said trying to sound confident. "I didn't then, and I _definitely _don't now."

Mutt nodded. "Right."

I felt flushed, but happy with myself. I had done it. I had proved i wasn't fragile. I was made of harder stuff than he thought, and it wasn't up to him to make me feel bad about who I was. I was working on becoming a better person, but now he knew that it was most deficiently _not_ for him.

There was a momentary silence, in which he stared at me expectantly. When I didn't say anything, he took it upon himself to say, "Anything else, Doll?"

I deflated. I was stunned, my minimal confidence wavering. I sighed, staring at him, trying to not let him see my disappointed expression—mostly at me, but some at him. "No…" I said a bit pathetically. "That's all."

Mutt smiled and nodded his head. "Right, then." He walked over to the door and opened it, holding it for me.

I sighed and walked out of the room, head hung.

All of a sudden, before I could even think about what had happened, Mutt had the power again. He was in charge. He knew what he was doing. He was confident. He had made we walk out of his room like the unconfident cube he thought I was.

I hadn't proved anything just then. I may have just emphasised how pathetic I really was, and I _know_ I made a point of how easy it was for people to walk over me. But I didn't make any positive change.

Mutt would look at me the same way.

He would always see me as the stupid, superficial, shallow paper-shaker, who cared more about her looks and what other people thought of her, than whether or not the people around her, and her family and friends were safe.

I would always be that girl in his eyes.

The Stupid Cheerleader.

The Cube.

My fists bunched. Oh no. Freddie had laughed enough at me. Mutt had called me fragile enough times. I was changing. It wasn't up to _them_ to choose the way I had to be, and the date by which I had to have changed completely. I was changing. I was adapting.

I wasn't stupid.

I wasn't a Cheerleader.

And I most certainly wasn't a _cube. _

I spun on my heel and stormed back through his door. He had long since closed it, but I didn't knock this time. Instead, I pushed it open. He looked up at me from over at the TV, where he had attempted to entertain himself once more.

"You know what?" I demanded, kicking the door close, with my foot. "That's not all. Far from it, as a _matter of fact_."

He looked shocked, as I glared at him. I was still unsure of what I was doing, but at the moment, my insecurities weren't going to stop me getting this off my chest.

"I'm sick of it." I said loudly. "I'm sick of you, waltzing into my life like you're some sort of Casanova, and then telling me how I should live my life. You had no right to insult me when you met me. Did you know who I was? Did you know what I was like? No! You didn't. But you went ahead and judged me anyway. Where did you get the right to do that?"

He stared at me. I didn't stop.

"And you call me all those stupid pet names? What makes you so much better than me, huh? Who decided that you could call me all those names? Doll? Cutie? Baby? Since when did you become so superior to me? I'm done with it. No more fragile! No more quaint. No more amusing. I'm none of those things."

His newly raised eyebrow—which caused the traitorous butterflies in my stomach to do back flips—seemed to call my last statement into question. Obviously, I was very amusing.

I fumed.

"And what about that kiss, huh?" I demanded. "Since when are you allowed to kiss me, and then insult me some more when I get annoyed about it? Who said you're allowed to suddenly tell me how horrible a person I am for not being ecstatic."

Mutt frowned. "You standing up for yourself, doll?"

I felt like screaming at him. Oh, my god—I hated him.

"Don't!" I shouted at him. "Don't you dare! You did this to me! I was extremely happy and then you decided that you could come into my life and tell me how to live it."

"Happy?" Mutt echoed with a scoff. It would seem he's a bit over the initial shock and wasn't so happy I was ranting at him. "Doll, you were miserable!"

I shook my head. "No! I wasn't. I was satisfied. I had a boyfriend, whose faults I didn't even think about. I had friends who weren't horrible. Suddenly, I meet you and I hate my boyfriend with a startling passion, and my friends are all superficial and shallow."

Mutt raised an eyebrow. "Right. Like… _you?_"

Oh, he didn't just go there.

"Oh, yeah?" I said glaring at him. "What if I'm working on it? Freddie and you may have opened my eyes to what I am, but it's not up to you to tell me what I have to become. It's my _life._ You barely even know me."

He was silent again.

"And hey, now you're probably thinking about a way to make me feel even worse about myself. Listing more of my faults, which I've been working to fix?"

I crossed my arms across my chest.

"Why don't we skip over my faults, and look at yours. You and your stupid leather, and your smirks, and your smell, and your hair. And you're nicely sized arms and your annoying comb. And your stupid obsession with that stupid little knife of yours. And what about you're stupid ability to make me still think you're hot, even though my brain is telling me to shut up?"

Indeed it was. But I wasn't going to. I wasn't nearly done talking.

"_You_ are everything I hate. You ride motor bikes, you we're too much leather and the grease in your hair could fill an entire pot of car grease! But you're hot, and right now, my brain is telling me that I'm blabbering and that I should _really_ stop talking now. But I'm not going to. Because that's exactly what you want me to—"

He crossed the floor in a matter of seconds and dipped his head to reach mine.

I suddenly found it very hard to concentrate on anything other than the fact that his lips were pressed against mine. The smell of leather that I smelt first when I woke up in his arms, was stronger now. I inhaled sharply, trying to hang onto it.

Why was it, whenever this boy kissed me, I lost all will power?

His hands came up to my back, pressing me a little closer to him, his fingers moving slowly across my back. I didn't even consider thinking about an answer. My own hands went up to the back of his neck, playing with his greased hair.

Mutt was kissing me. Mutt Jones. I was most certainly kissing Mutt Jones back. Which didn't make much sense. Plus, he had kissed me. It wasn't me. He had _kissed_ me.

And to make everything _more_ confusing, there weren't any suits coming at us this time. Were there?

I pushed him off, with a frown. "Where are they?" I hissed in a whisper.

He frowned, confused at me. "What?"

I frowned. "Don't mess with me, Mutt. You'd only kiss me if _Suits_ were here. So tell me where they are. Although…" I said as an afterthought. "I don't really understand the plan now anyway; considering we're obviously wearing our own clothes and we're standing in your hotel room, so it's not exactly like they'll not recognise us—"

"Doll?" Mutt said cutting me off.

I frowned up at him, "Yes?"

"Cut the gas." And then he pressed his lips firmly back against mine.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **This is one chapter in which I would ADORE reviews. They make me happy. I would love to know what you thought of Mutt and Kitty's final outburst, and the kiss. I hope I made my readers happy. It made me happy writing it.

Oh, and the hotel? The wonderful one that I wish I could visit? Doesn't exist. Sorry. I made it up. I'm not even sure if there are any ten story hotels near the Louvre, especially ones that look pink. If I ever do become an architect, I'll look into it. Sorry about that.

So PLEASE, PLEASE review. That would be WONDERFUL!

Thanks,

Grace


	11. Of Libraries and Bus Rides

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

It was Franklin who woke me up when the plane landed. Even though I was leaning on Mutt's arm, a very effective and nice smelling pillow, it was my Grandad who walked across the plane and down the aisle to shake my shoulder and say, "Kat. The planes about to land. Get all your things organised."

I did as he had asked, quickly waking Mutt myself and smiling at him shyly when he momentarily refused to move his arm from around my shoulders. I had only left Mutt's room late that night, after the majority of the night was spent making out on his lounge. It was different to kissing Scott, who was always so rough and expectant. Mutt kissed me gently, despite all the leather and the motorbike I was sure he had stowed away in his home garage.

He had kept his arms around my waist the entire night. Different to Scott who would always try and grope me, just when I would begin to think he was doing decently. Of course, Mutt didn't stop calling me Doll, but he did apologise for judging me.

I thought it was nice. Something so new and unfamiliar. Scott never apologised for any mistakes he made. They were simply stowed away and forgotten. Mutt had actually apologised. It was nice. It was new. It was comforting.

The breakfast was and all you can eat buffet, which was were only allowed into because of Indy's connections. I wasn't complaining though, as I walked in a saw all the food. I noticed, that I hadn't really ate much since the start of this journey, and instantly my plate was full of Bacon, pancakes and a variety of spreads for my four slices of toast.

Franklin was on his third bowl of cereal. The people who had fed him whilst he stayed with Sawyer had generally given his a small slice of bread and milk, for every meal of the day. When I offered him some toast, I actually saw him pale a bit. He politely turned it down and then hurriedly took another mouthful of his cereal.

Indy and Marion hadn't both gotten a large stack of pancakes, sitting perfectly on top of one another—the pancakes, not Marion and Indy—and them smothered them in syrup, sugar and all the other possible toppings. They were sharing breakfast, occasionally picking pieces off their spouse's plates that looked particularly delicious.

Mutt hadn't bothered with the plate. Instead, he had simply picked up one of the large black serving trays and filled that with food. A serving of every single meal that was on offer sat on his plate. Bacon and Eggs, Cereal bowl, Toast, pancakes, and much more. Little Danishes and pastries decorated the tray as well, and he now sat in front of it, debating where he should start.

I smirked at him and his stupidity, sitting down opposite him. "Got enough there?" I asked.

He grinned at me. "Not nearly enough, doll."

I rolled my eyes and looked at my own food, stabbing a piece of bacon with my fork.

For the majority of plane ride, I sat, nested under Mutt's arm as we attempted to get comfortable in the plane. He had pushed up one of the arm rests, which moved, up and out of the way, letting me lean on him while the plane was still stationary and on the floor. It was a good thing, I suppose, that Franklin, Indy and Marion were all on the opposite side of the economy class seats, diagonally ahead of us.

"I can't believe this is happening." I muttered to him.

Mutt chuckled. "Yeah. What are you going to tell your friends? They're not going to be too happy finding out you made out with someone like _me."_

I nudged him with my elbow and let out a sigh. "That's a wall I'm just going to have to face when we get back to America. When all of _this_ is over." At the word, "_This_" I motioned all around.

I think Mutt got the point.

"Speaking of home, doll…" Mutt said. "Are we just going to go back to our old lives? You back to New York City to stay jacketed to your Football captain, and me back to Bedford to keep the multiple single girls happy?"

I frowned at him. "I don't know." I sighed. "I know that I'm not going any where near Scott. I mean, sure the guy took a bullet for me. But he regrets it. He told me that he regretted it."

Mutt frowned. "He _is _a jackass."

I looked up at him, my hands resting on the arm that was wrapped around my waist. "You're not much better," I told him with raised eyebrows. "You're a jack ass as well."

Mutt looked down at me and smirked, catching my eye. "Yeah, but you knew that before and you still kissed me."

I laughed indignantly. "You kissed me," I muttered. "I didn't have anything to do with it."

Mutt chuckled. "Right. So that _wasn't_ you kissing back?"

I didn't have an answer, so I just blushed and went back to playing with the sleeve of his leather jacket. He chuckled some more, before becoming interested in the magazine that was stowed in the back of the seat in front of him. Because of the nonexistent conversation between the two of us, I found t easy to fall asleep. It was nice, being able to finally sleep properly.

"Alright," Franklin explained in hushed tones, as he, Indy and Marion all ushered us through the Athens airport. "We haven't checked into any hotel yet, so we have time to see if we can find anything more to do with the temple and the statue. We're catching a bus to _Elis—_"

I frowned. "What's Elis?" I asked. "I thought we were going to Olympia."

No one mentioned anything about any places called Elis. It was all, 'Olympia,' and 'Athens' and 'France' and 'Salvaator.'

Mutt smirked. "Doll, Olympia is _inside_ Elis."

I frowned, silent for a moment as everyone stared at me. Then I pouted, and folded my arms defensively across my chest. "You already say I'm fragile on a daily basis," I reprimanded the _smirking_ greaser. "Don't even think about starting up on my intelligence."

It was Indy that hit Mutt upside the head when he muttered something that sounded like, '_What intelligence?'_

I smiled gratefully at Indy. Indy tipped his fedora in my direction before linking arms with Marion and walking through the Airport.

"As I was saying," Franklin continued with obvious amusement. "—We'll be leaving for the bus station to _Elis _in about three hours so we all have time to utilise by researching and working on what else could possibly help us find it before Sawyer."

I stared at Franklin. "You've been doing this since 1906. Don't you think you've done all the research that you could _possibly do?_"

But, alas, Franklin shook his head and sent both Mutt and myself straight to the English section of the nearest library—which he located on the first tourist map he could find.

I sat surrounded by books inside one of Athens's Libraries, in the English section.

"Alright." Mutt began, looking up at me from where his head was buried in an ancient looking text book.

Did I mention how _surreal_ it is to see a _greaser_ inside a library—and _not_ attempting to burn the books with his lighter?

"So, the Temple of Zeus was built in Olympia, in about 470 BC to 456 BC. It was the most famous sanctuary in Greece, dedicated tot heir supreme God, Zeus. Chief of the god fought with lightning bolts and ruled the rest of the gods, being the father of the mighty Hercules—yadda, yadda, yadda." Mutt rolled his eyes and looked up at me.

I grinned at him. "I'll give you ten bucks if it actually says that in there." I motioned to the text.

Mutt slammed the book shut. "It was in there." He said.

I smirked at him, before looking back at my own book.

"It housed the cult statue of Zeus, which has become one of the Seven Wonders of the World. The statue was approximately thirteen metres high and was made by a renowned sculptor named Phidias, in his workshop in Olympia. The statue took Twelve years to complete. On the statues head there was a sculptured wreath of Olive Sprays and in his right hand he held the figure of Nike—the goddess of victory. In his left hand was a sceptre with an eagle perched on top. He wore a robe, and sandals both made from gold. The robe was carved with animals and flowers. The throne was decorated with gold, precious stones, ebony and ivory. It was the most famous artistic work in Greece. It also—"

Mutt held up his hand and made a choking noise. "No more. I think I got it."

I frowned at him. "Do you really?" I consulted the book again. "I mean, it really was wonderful. It was made of gold and other priceless things, and it was thirteen metres tall. The time and work that must have gone into making this thing is amazing. Not to mention how much it showed that these people devoted their time and work to their gods and—"

Once again, I was cut off.

"Doll," Mutt said, "Seriously. You're killing me."

**xXxXx**

"I hate buses."

Due to the fact that I declared this rather loudly on a relatively uncrowded bus, I did receive a dirty look from the driver. Franklin gave me a disapproving look at this and my only possible reply was to explain that we're in Greece, and I thought they all spoke Latin. And then Mutt had to put his two cents in and mention that Latin was a dead language and no one spoke it.

So then I took to ignoring Mutt, and make my attempt at the very challenging task of joining Franklin in a conversation about Archaeology.

"Is this what it's like all the time?" I queried.

"Archaeology?" He repeated. Franklin smiled, almost wistfully, and then nodded. "It's always seemed this way to me. Discovering new things and making sure that everything we do is documented and recorded. It's history in the making. Making the discoveries that no one else has made. Setting eyes on things that people haven't set eyes on in years. Even things that no one has ever seen before."

"Like dinosaur bones?"

Franklin chuckled to himself. "I suppose so, _yes,_ dinosaur bones count in that way. I've never discovered a dinosaur bone."

Good thing too—he'd probably want it named after him and then there'd be a Franklinsaurus out there.

I didn't say that out loud, of course.

I watched Franklin in his seat. He was fiddling with a small thread on his own dirty worn blazer, grinning to himself, and then grinning at me. And then grinned back down at the thread. He was literally almost bobbing in his seat.

"You're like some kid in a candy store." I mused looking at him. "It's kind of sweet."

Franklin was silent for a moment, his hand freezing at the thread and he looked up at me smiling at me in astonishment.

"Your grandmother said that exact same thing to me, the year after I got back from Rome the first time." He chuckled, "and then your mother when I gave her the rings. They must have both known nothing good would come from them."

I smiled comfortingly. It was obvious from the way that he reminisced that he loved Grandma and Mum more than anything in the world. He kept their favourite things in our apartment. Things of Elaine's that reminded Franklin of her, like an old cardigan, which I had once found him smelling and crying into and one or two of her favourite books. Then there were the obvious photos of her scattered around the house, one in every room. And there were things like pictures that she had embroidered, and scarves she had sewn we had framed.

He also had things of Mum's. Molly Roberts who had married Richard Jenkins. We kept their wedding photos. And her Wedding Dress hung in the back of one of our cupboards, ready for my big day. We kept her school projects and her letters to Richard which I had read when I turned eighteen. They were pretty funny, beginning off with 'I hate yous,' and ending with 'I love yous.'

I felt a pang when I realised that everything he treasured about Grandma and kept for Mum had probably been ruined when Sawyer's men went through our apartment.

"You look just like her," Franklin said to me, "Your mother," He verified. "It's uncanny. She had the same shape face as you," He told me. He twisted his body and reached out for my hair. "The same sort of hair,"

I reached up and fingered my brown locks, smiling to myself. Franklin often told me that I looked like her, but never how I looked like her. It was nice, knowing what I had to remember her by.

Franklin let out a sigh. "Which is why I need to talk to you."

I frowned. The loving atmosphere seemed to fizzle, for a reason unknown to me.

"I'm going to leave you at the hotel..." He said loudly.

I stared at him, jaw dropping. "What?" I asked instantly, misunderstanding. "Where are you going? I just got you back. You're not going off on your own. For one, that'd tick the Jones off, you ditching us again."

Franklin opened and closed his mouth once, before swallowing and folding his hands in his lap. He took a deep breath.

"I mean, Kat," He said to me quietly. "You won't be coming with myself and the Jones."

I stared at him.

No.

Way.

I had done so much to find him, and find what he needed and wanted. There was no way he was cutting me out of this. I shook my head wordlessly.

I vaguely noticed Mutt's head turn in our direction, not too obvious. But I could see he was listening.

"—See, Kat," Franklin started talking again. "—your mother and your grandmother always thought that Archaeology was dangerous, or at least my techniques. And I always told them that it wasn't. That it was an amazing job that made me feel alive and I couldn't imagine doing any thing else. It's kind of obvious then, that I was wrong. I've brought you into this complicated dangerous life and I swore to those women that I would keep you safe. So I'm not letting you come any further."

I literally could not reply.

My jaw was hanging off its hinges, and my throat was dry.

My eyes were watering, and I didn't even move to get the hair that had fallen in my face out of the way.

"You understand, don't you?"

...

"No!" I said forcibly. So forcibly in fact, that Franklin jumped, leaning away from me.

I twisted myself in my seat. "No." I repeated. "No, no, no, no..." I was so frustrated with him that my hands shook as I struggled to find something to do with them. Finally I clenched my fists and rested them in my lap.

"You are not blocking me out of this." I told him firmly. "I am part of this. If it wasn't for me you'd still be by yourself tied up with Sawyer. And I'm not _letting_ you cut me out of this thing."

Franklin shook his head. "This is beyond you Kat," He told me. "You're not ready for something like this."

"Don't!" I interrupted him, holding my hand up. "Don't you dare say that I can't do this, or I can't handle this, or I'm too weak to handle something like this."

Franklin frowned, opening his mouth to protest. I didn't let him.

"I have spent the past few days seeing more things than I ever imagined. I have dug up a grave, flown in _three _planes, squatted in a housing development, punched a guy in the face, avoided Sawyers muscle men by—" my eyes widened.

Franklin didn't need to know _that,_ no matter how bad the situation.

"—hiding…" I finished.

Mutt coughed, in front of us, obviously amused.

I made a mental note to punch him.

"I have found out things about the past that I think are amazing, and now you're telling me to just shut up and sit down?" I shook my head. Franklin opened his mouth to talk, but I continued my tirade. "I am not going back the same person," I told him. "For one, my life back home is _ruined,_ because for some reason, I can finally see how _horrible_ my old friends are."

"This is _too dangerous for you, _Kat."

I paid him no attention.

"And another thing," I continued, "I don't care what you say. You are my _grandfather. _The only living family I have left and if you think that I'm just going to let you up and go into a situation like this, then you have another thing coming to you."

"You're _too_ young."

"And _you're _too old." I told him loudly. "You're seventy six years old. By all right, you should be sitting at home nursing your garden, and preparing yourself for a nursing home. So don't you tell me what I can't handle. I'm twenty years old, and therefore, I can make my own decisions. And I am not leaving this search before it's completed fully. And if you even think about suggesting that again—I swear to God, that I'll tie you up and leave you in the hotel room myself."

As I was sitting on the aisle seat, I found it easy to get up. I joined Mutt on his seat, ignoring Marion's and Indy's alarmed looks, darting from Me to Franklin, and Mutt's awkward look. Finally, he decided on an action and lifted his leather jacketed arm, resting it on my shoulders.

I inhaled deeply, memorising his leather scent again, and then closing my eyes, trying to forget what Franklin had said, and more importantly, the ideas he had brought to the front of my mind.

What would my parents think seeing me do this?

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **Thoughts? Queries? Comment? Questions?

Your reviews for this story have all been overwhelming so far and I am sorry for the big gaps between updating. I'm just having some bad writers block—even though I know exactly what to do for the rest of the story. I'm on holidays as well, so I should have more time to finish. I will endeavour to finish in the next two weeks but yehh...I'm not going to make any promises because you'll all hate me.

Please, all are welcome, and I would love you readers to review. This story has been favourited and story alerted quite a lot, but how is that any less difficult then clicking the prettier button and typing just a little feedback?

All I mean is PLEASE REVIEW!

I hope you liked this chapter, and I'm off the write the next chapter as we speak.

Cheers.

Grace.


	12. Motorbikes and Foundation Blocks

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

_Dear Nancy, _

That was as far as I had gotten.

I could make excuses for myself and say that my inability to write to my best friend was because of the truck load of other things that I had on my mind, but in my head, I knew that that wasn't true. I wasn't able to write to Nancy for a variety of selfish personal reasons that all culminated in one: I didn't know what to say.

How was I supposed to explain to her that I had left the country with a family of strangers (one of whom was a good looking greaser) to find my grandfather who happened to be on the brink of one of the greatest archaeological finds in history, and had been kidnapped because of this? How was I supposed to tell her that I was now in Greece—having already been and gone to both Italy and Paris? How was I supposed to tell her that in the course of this amazing trip I had unintentionally kissed the amazingly good-looking Greaser who I was travelling with, cheating on Scott in the process? How was I supposed to tell her that during everything, we had been followed by men in black suits who answered to a psychotic old rich man with a grudge against my grandfather?

I was at a dead end.

I had been at said halt in my mental state as soon as the bus arrived at our motel. After getting off from the long trip, I had vacated myself to my room, where I had remained, sulking, until Marion had brought me a snack—a nice spicy roll with some sort of meat inside—and then disappeared while I remained; sitting in my room, sulking to myself about the hardships of my life.

Of _course_ Franklin wouldn't want me here. He hadn't liked me going to college. He had been so adamant that I be under his careful watch that he had refused to let me live on campus with Nancy. And he had certainly been annoyed with me when I brought Scott home the first time, because, as he explained in later, he didn't want to watch me slowly leaving him.

But come on.

To say it to my _face?_

I honestly didn't think he would have done it.

Indy and Marion had been rather understanding of the whole thing. They seemed to see both sides of the story—Franklin's because they were parents and seemingly understood what it was like to have that sort of basic worry about someone. But they got my side as well. Apparently, as a young child Indy had had some family troubles himself.

"His Dad wasn't quite as invested in his safety as Franklin is about you." Marion told me frankly, as she dropped off my meal.

I thanked her graciously—but I wasn't in the mood to chat with her about reasons why Franklin was in the right.

Instead, I decided to go down to the café next to the motel and grab myself some sort of cold refreshment before I faced the wolves again.

And by 'wolves' I meant, Franklin.

I snuck out relatively easy. The things I had been learning from Indy and Mutt must have been stored somewhere inside me, because I slipped past them with ease, smirking to myself as they chatted amongst themselves about what we could be facing and what might happen when we eventually did continue our expedition. I walked briskly down the street—towards the café I could see, pausing momentarily at the post office, which was located between the motel and the café.

I purchased two postcards—one for Scott and one for Nancy, I told myself as I handed the sales clerk my money. There was a moment of confusion while I tried to convey exactly what I wanted to buy, and I had internally kicked myself for taking Spanish on High school, when I could have been doing Italian one room over.

I stared down at the postcard.

_Dear Nancy, _

I considered for a moment, taking my pen and scribbling out everything—but then realised that that would only lead to me having to buy a new post card—so I focused. I narrowed my eyes, held in my strangled cry of frustration, and stared at the blank back of the card.

_Dear Nancy, _

_I'm not sure what I can and can't put in this letter. I can't tell you all the details, because I don't know who will intercept this message. I'm not even sure if this message will reach you at all…_

Oh no. That didn't sound stupid at all.

I wrinkled my nose, but kept writing.

_I miss you. That much is for sure. Over the past few days everything in my life has been turned upside down and wonky—and I'm questioning _everything_ that I ever did or thought. _

I didn't like it. The way I was writing made it sound like I was crying for help. Like I needed her. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to know her any more, let alone need her. Nancy represented everything that I was before everything. Before Mutt and Freddie had called me on my intolerable personality, or before I had found Franklin and realised exactly what was amazing about my life.

_Things are confusing, I can tell you that much. I'm back with Franklin now, but we're not out of this ness just yet. I've been staying with some people—they've been helping me out, and they're actually pretty cool. My life has changed since I met them—_I've _changed since I met them. I think it's a good change… although, I'm not sure if you will._

I figured that it was probably easier to stick with the personal side of everything that had been going on, rather than delve into the details about the Statue of Zeus, or the keys that were still firmly around my middle finger.

Of course, a lot of the things on my mind were pretty much conflicting ideas about my parents.

Part of me told me that they would be furious—they would have me sent home as soon as possible, ready to punish me with an assortment of things; no cheerleading, not parties etc. Another part of me told me that they would have been disappointed. They wouldn't want me wasting my life doing things like this—I should have been back home, studying like they had always wanted.

But then another part of me, an entirely new part of me, told me that maybe somewhere inside of them, they might have been happy for me. I remembered them that way. They were proud of me all the time, and happy to let me test my own limits—see how far I could go on my own back. Strive to do my best and whatnot.

_I'm not sure what will have changed by the time I get back. I'm not the same person. I've met people, they've told me thing, and I've seen things. I don't think it's possible to go back after that. _

I didn't.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that I had been cheerleading and hanging with Nancy. Kissing Scott seemed like a forever ago—and an unattractive part of my past that I would rather forget. It dimmed, in contrast to my life now. I was finding amazing things, helping amazing people—and kissing an amazing kisser commonly.

My life before this seemed to mundane now. Meaningless.

_You'll always be special to me, Nancy, and I'm writing this to say that I miss you, and (if anything goes wrong) goodbye. _

_Kitty xx._

Again, I wrinkled my nose at the sign off. I was too dramatic. Too self absorbed and too vague. Nancy wouldn't be worried when she got this postcard—she'd be PO'd.

I barely glanced at the second postcard for a second before reaching for it. I couldn't write anything differently—I had said what needed to be said. It was time to start on Scott's.

_Dear Scott,_

_I hope you're feeling better—I'm so sorry about what happened to your arm._

I hesitated.

There was _nothing_ I could say to Scott.

Sure there was a significant amount of guilt concerning him and the good looking greaser who had been the focus of my romantic attention since I had confirmed—verbally and mentally—that Scott was a bad guy. But I wasn't going to apologise for this through a letter, nor was I going to break up with him.

He was a selfish guy, sure, but he didn't deserve that. No one did.

_I hope that everything's going well—_

This time, I couldn't hold in my frustration. Before I could think about it I had scribbled through the words with a frustrated shout. I caught some alarmed looks from other people at the café, but I focused on the letter. As soon as I began to scribble I couldn't stop. I scribbled all over the back of the post card, until it was entirely black, before moving my pen toward Nancy's.

I managed to stop myself before I ruined Nancy's letter. Mostly because somewhere inside me I recognise that everything I said to Nancy was stuff that needed to be said. So, I grasped Nancy's postcard in my hand, holding the pen in the other, and stood. I discarded the postcard that I would have sent to Scott in the bin on my way out, after paying for the drink I had had at the café.

I quickly made my way back into the post office.

I handed the man at the counter Nancy's postcard, and paid all the necessary payments that were needed if I ever wanted the card to reach Nancy. It was only as I watched the card slide into the large red box for posting that I realised how annoyed Scott would be if Nancy got a letter from me and he didn't.

I decided that I could send him a postcard. It would be full of totally trivial things, of course, like the weather and questions about football, but it would still be a postcard.

I was browsing the rack of postcards—for one that said 'I'm your friend and nothing more, we have a totally platonic relationship' in the picture, when I heard the car.

It was pure luck that I glanced pat that second to see which car was pulling up next to our motel. But it wasn't pure look that kept my gaze there. It was anger. I hunched in my seat suddenly, staring over the top of the bench as Franklin, Mutt, Marion and Indy headed towards the car.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Look, Franklin," Indy was saying. "I understand that you're worried about her, but she's a big girl. She should have a part in the decision to come with us."

Franklin shook his head stubbornly.

"Don't tell me how to look after my granddaughter, Indiana." He said sternly. "I've managed very well for the past six years."

I held in my snort. Did that or did that not include the past week where I had been attacked, chased, kidnapped and shot at in an effort to find him?

"I'm not telling you how to raise her," Indy said stubbornly. "I'm telling you that she'll be angry with you if you leave her out of this."

I smiled at this. At least Indy was on my side. Maybe the family drama that Marion had mentioned earlier was deeper rooted than I initially thought. At least that meant I had at least two allies—Indy and Mu—

"Dad, she's safer back here." Mutt said quietly. "Better angry than dead. And if this goes the way we planned, than she'll forgive him."

My jaw dropped, and I felt my heart drop into my stomach. As though a knife was twisting in my gut from where Mutt had stabbed me in the back.

What had happened to _no more fragile? _

I was not some bloody doll who they could just make decisions for. I was growing as a person! I had learned things, I was a _better person!_ How dare they—Franklin _and _Mutt—assume that I couldn't handle this.

I was about to storm out of the post office to tell them exactly this when I realised I had been standing in shock for too long, and thy had already piled into the car. The car pulled away form the curb before I would take one step.

"Those _nosebleeds_—"

**xXxXx**

It didn't take long for me to negotiate my way into getting a ride. Granted—it wasn't the best ride I could have asked for—but the next public bus came round in forty-five minutes, and I didn't have enough drachma to pay a taxi. Luckily enough, I had showered recently, and Greek men had no problem falling for my American feminine wiles.

I had flirted my way into borrowing a bike.

That's right. A bike.

Unfortunately for me, the only Greek man who knew an ounce of English, was riding one of these, and even though he fell, hook line and sinker, for my attempt and wooing my way into borrowing the bike, it was still exactly that. A bike.

"Now you—borrow bike?" Alexis said to me with a wide grin.

I nodded my head enthusiastically.

"You know how to ride?" He asked.

His english was simple at best, but it was good enough for him to understand me, and me to understand him. I had told him, slowly and clearly, that it was very important that I get to the Temple of Zeus as soon as possible. He had offered to take me, before realising that his appointment—or whatever reason he was actually here—was too close for him to make the tip, so he then offered me the keys.

It was nice that _some _people were confident in me, and trusted me.

He quickly taught me the basics of the bike; how to speed up, how to break, how to balance and how to turn, before he handed me the keys. When he did I smiled brightly at him and thanked him profusely.

Being the charming European man that he was, he simply brushed off my thanks—as though it was something he did every day.

"You leave bike at temple." He then confirmed. "I will pick it up tomorrow morning."

I nodded again, with a bright smile, and pulled him into a quick hug before he could leave. He smiled, hugging me back for a moment, before helping me get on the bike. Before he said goodbye however, he hesitated—looking at my small white shirt and goose bump ridden arms.

Suddenly, he was shrugging off his jacket, handing it to me.

Before I could protest he had smiled at me, and bid me adieu. Then he turned on his heel and walked towards the café where I had been earlier.

_Yeah, _I concluded, pulling the jacket over my arms, _European men were far nicer, and more charming than the stupid hair obsessed yet extremely kissable American greasers. _

I quickly learned, however, that no matter the charm of the rider, motorbikes were certainly not as charming. While I distracted myself following signs and pulling over every five minutes to ask for directions, it was hard to ignore the discomfort of the bike. It was easy enough to tell why motorbikes were a relatively uncommon mode f transport. Sure, they looked cool and made your heart race, but at night? While dressed for a night in?

It was _bloody _cold.

I pulled over at the temple (finally) with my teeth chattering, and as I stowed the keys to the bike exactly where Alexis and I had discussed, I wrapped the jacket he had given me tight.

I spotted the car that the others had arrived in parked in the car park, a little way over from where I had parked the bike. I narrowed my eyes at it. From the looks of where they had parked—they had gone straight to the temple. I was about to follow in that direction myself, when I noticed the smaller building that was located beside it.

I frowned at it, curious, as though my quizzical look could get me the answers.

It couldn't, so I shrugged. If they didn't want me, they wouldn't get me. And when I discovered something amazing in the small little room, it would be up to them to come crawling to me with apologies on their lips.

Not that I'd accept until there had been some very serious grovelling on their behalf.

So I marched, with a steadiness to my step that wasn't often there, towards the small building. At least I surmised in my head, it was a closed building—unlike the actual Temple. At least it would be warm in there.

Or, I had assumed it would be, and was sorely mistaken upon entering.

As I examined the building—which I concluded was some sort of church or basilica—and the cross on the walls and all the other things in side, a small voice in my head reminded me that maybe _I _was in the wrong place, and the Temple was a better place to look.

Especially since it was so eerily dark in here.

The basilica was beautiful, if you wanted a word for it—other than _ancient._ The waled and windows were about the same as any other church grand church that I had seen when I passed. It was old—of course, and smelt like it was. There was an assortment of old smells inside—like clay, and mud, and cleanliness (if that had a smell.)

For a moment, I couldn't for the life of my figure out exactly why a Christian church was located right next to the Temple that honoured Zeus. I recalled my history class in high school, and the research we did on the Olympics and other old stuff—and remembered that the Greek people didn't worship Zeus anymore.

Which made sense.

I frowned scrunching up my face in what I'm sure was an unattractive look of concentration. What was I supposed to do now? This was just a church?

Even though, of course, if I went and got Indy and the others, I'm sure they'd find something else.

I narrowed my eyes.

I was not letting _them_ see this as their discovery. This was _my_ discovery, and they would not find it if I didn't want them to. That was what they got for leaving me behind.

_What would Indy do?_ I asked myself in my head. Because it was a good philosophy.

Following this line of thought, I did everything I thought Indy might do. I climbed onto platforms and looked down at he ground, and lay on my back and stared at the ceiling, trying to make patterns out of the cracks in the ceiling that might crack this mystery right open. I examined the cross on the wall and I smelled with a new concentration—trying to figure out what those smells were, all the time repeating my mantra in my head.

_What would Indy d—_wait. I frowned, as I pushed myself off my hands and knees. I had, until that point, been examining the point where a chair hit the floor—to see if there was some sort of secret contraption that opened a hole in the wall—when I noticed the walls.

Most of the wall was an attractive colour—except or the very base of the walls. As I followed the base of the wall around the entire room—and noticed the different base—I concluded something. This Basilica had been built on something else.

I went outside again, to see if I could see anymore of this original building. I walked around the basilica; I got gradually lower and lower, until I was crawling around the side. As I crawled around the base, following the foundations, nothing really extraordinary leapt out at me, until I felt a gust of wind blow on me.

And it was cold, right? That was nothing special.

Except it came from the foundations.

Like there was some sort of space beneath the Basilica.

Not hesitating for a moment, to think about the damage I was doing to what I'm sure was a very important old building, I reached for one of the ancient bricks, and tugged sharply.

In hindsight, I probably should have been more worried about the entire building falling down on me—but at that moment, I wasn't. I was only interested in finding exactly what was beneath the Basilica. I managed to create a space large enough for me to squeeze through, and peered inside.

It was a huge space. About half the size of the church sitting on top of it, was a room, full of tables and chairs and old clay. I could see where the breeze had come from—another hole in the wall on the other side of the room—where the wind had clearly gone in—to come out on my side of the room.

I grinned gleefully to myself. I didn't _need_ Mutt, or Franklin, or even Indy and Marion. I was doing brilliantly by myself.

A gun clicked in my ear, and I turned my head quickly enough to see Hugh Sawyer smiling sadistically down at me.

"Good evening, Miss Roberts…"

Maybe not quite as brilliant as I thought…

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **Okay. Before the hate mail comes in about how terrible I am for leaving it so long to update, I just want to stress how BAD I feel. The writer's block I mentioned last time? Definitely didn't go away for a long time, until I made myself sit down and watch the fourth movie again, and think about the plot and actually sit down and _write. _So a big thanks to everyone who specifically emailed me and told me to get off my fat ass to do what I told you guys I would… (You know who you are…)

Onto the actual plot: Thought? Queries? Comments? I'm very much interested in what you guys thought of this chapter, so please, oh please review and give me your thoughts. They make my soul happy (even if I don't deserve them…)

I'm off now, to watch the first Indiana Jones movie, but then I'll get straight back to writing the next chapter.

Again, _profuse apologies,_ and please review.

G.


	13. Phidias and Sawyer

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

_So_, I concluded as I stood slowly with my hands in the air,_ maybe it was time that I invested in a firearm of my very own. _

There weren't many men with Sawyer, only two—both who happened to have their guns trained on me. Sawyer merely moved his finger, and the second one snapped to attention.

"Go and get the others," he ordered. "Tell them to bring Franklin and the Jones's down here to see what little Katerina has discovered."

I glowered at him.

He smiled back, in an eerie way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Now, I had never been very good with confrontations.

Consulting my track record, that much was obvious. The utter humiliation I had felt when talking to Freddie, my clogged up anger at Mutt that had culminated, exploded and resulted in, well… and even my anger at Franklin. The point is that I had long since given up hoping that my future encounters would involve any dignity or pride on my part.

Which is why I was so proud of exactly what I did next.

I watched while Thug #1, who's gun was still aimed at me, glanced at his disappearing comrade. In that mere second, I brought my left hand up, pushed the gun to the left and punched him in the face. He staggered slightly, but I payed him not attention. I ran at Sawyer—

Only to hear the gun click at the back of my head for the second time in minutes.

The man I had punched recovered far more quickly that I had anticipated, and my punch had clearly not been a good one. He wasn't moaning in pain or clutching at his eye like they did when Mutt punched them. He was just standing there, gun trained on my head, with a grin on his face.

"Now, now, Kitty dear," Sawyer mused. "That was very impolite wasn't it?"

I stayed silent, aware that my hands were shaking, and my heart was pounding in my chest so loud that Sawyer and Thug # 1 could probably hear it.

Sawyer sighed at my silence, and consulted his watch.

"I had been willing to wait for your grandfather for this part," he mused. "But you've annoyed my man here, and I think we'd better get started, lest he decide to shoot you."

I swallowed.

Sawyer smiled his creepy smile again. "Turn around, Miss Roberts."

I did so, slowly, and trying to ignore the smirking thug with the gun at my head. It was far more difficult than Franklin had made it seem in the limo back in Paris.

"Now, I'm not sure what you've discovered, but I'm sure it is worth further examination, don't you think so?" Franklin said, stepping forward and peering down at the hole. "Of course, I don't know what's in there, so you'll be going down first."

I swallowed—the black hole looked far more threatening than it had when I wasn't going in at gunpoint.

"Kat!"

I heard my grandfather's distraught call and flinched. I didn't particularly want to turn around to see him, where he was walking—I'm sure, also at gunpoint. I heard Mutt swear, on the other hand, and my eyes narrowed. I still didn't turn around though, and continued to stare at the hole.

"Ah, Franklin!" Sawyer greeted him with exaggeration. "Joneses! Glad you could make it in time! Did you see what your Kitty has discovered?" He gestured at the small hole.

Even despite the direness of this moment, I couldn't help but revel a little in the audible inhalations of my travelling party. Indy muttered something under his breath, while Franklin murmured something that sounded like "Good Lord."

"I'm not sure what it is yet," Sawyer continued. "But Kitty was about to venture down there and find out."

There were your expected protests to this, including my own nervous, "Sure no one else can do it?" Sawyer wasn't having it, however, as he motioned to his man, who clicked his gun at my head.

"Now, Miss Roberts," Sawyer said to me. "Do not make the mistake of assuming that you are of vital importance to my expedition. I assure you that you are not as important to me as you are to your family. I have four other people who can assist me should you decide to be unhelpful. The only reason you're not dead at the moment, is that, from the goodness of my heart, I wouldn't want to hurt your grandfather in such a way…"

I swallowed. His words had a sick truth to them that a part of me registered with a sense of horror and apprehension.

Nodding, and with a dry mouth, I stepped toward the hole.

I hesitated once more. Foolishly, I turned back to Sawyer. "Are you sure—?"

I probably should have recognised the look of irritation on Sawyer's face. He was beyond humouring me now, and with another almost imperceptible movement of his finger Thug # 1 lifted the back of his gun so quickly I barely saw it before in collided with my cheek.

Marion let out a soft cry, while both Mutt and Indy made violent moves towards Sawyer. Franklin moaned in horror.

I stayed still on the ground—where I had landed, on all fours—for a moment, before pushing myself onto my knees.

"Fine, jeez," I muttered, wiping my face, and trying to ignore the now throbbing bruise on my cheek. I approached the hole that I had created, this time not even turning around to look at Sawyer. The gun to the face had more than convinced me he was willing to dispose of me.

I peered into the hole for a moment, trying to figure out exactly how far down it was until I would reach the floor of the room. It was easy enough to see the things inside—the light behind me streamed in and skimmed the top of the table and the chairs. It didn't, unfortunately, show me where the floor was—or anything directly below the hole.

I pulled my head back out of the hole, and hastened to explain that I was just readjusting, not pulling out.

Sawyer had the man who had brought his weapon back to my head, lower it again.

I shifted, slightly, glancing up at Franklin for a mere second before looking back at the hole. I pushed my feet in first, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of letting them hang there in the dark. I shuffled myself down until my waist got to the hole, when I realised I would have to turn over to land the best way.

I rolled over, in what I'm sure was a very humorous fashion, and shuffled backwards again. I stopped when my shoulders got the hole—my entire body hanging down the side of the wall, and closed my eyes.

"Kitty—Don't!" Franklin shouted. He was shut up, even though I ignored him.

I took a deep breath and let my grip of the floor go. I felt the familiar uncomfortable feeling of dropping for a moment, and let out a little squeak, before my feet came in contact with something hard. I steadied myself for a second, realising I was barely inches below the hole. The floor hadn't been that far way it seemed.

I stood, unsteadily, on my feet for a second.

"I think its—AHHHHHHH!"

Whatever I had been standing on was certainly not the floor. It collapsed under my feet and I imagined momentarily falling down a hole and into the middle of the world—where I would quickly die, before I once again collided with something hard.

This time, it was definitely the floor.

There had been a series on alarmed shouts at my scream, followed by what sounded like a struggle of some sorts. A heard a couple of punches being thrown, one gunshot and then everything was still.

"Kitty! Kitty, are you there? Kitty are you alright!"

I groaned.

The floor that I had landed on was hard—and definitely stone of some sort. The tower of crates that I had been standing on before it collapsed had exploded, and parts of it were littered all around me. My head had landed inches away from something else—and when I cracked my eyes open to check I could see the hole was about five feet about me now.

"I'm fine." I had called out, with a moan. "Someone get me a light." I pushed myself off the ground, not focusing on the dark parts of the room, but rather the hole in the rood.

In second the lantern was lowered in on a rope. I grabbed it when I came into my grasp and pulled it off the rope.

Then I looked around.

I had been right when I had seen the tables and the chairs that were down here. They looked old. As in _ancient._ Old sorts of tools that looked like they belonged in some museum littered the table, and the work benches that were against the opposite walls. There were a few statues; some small, and some about my size, and some even bigger, all around. A few of them were incomplete and one of the statues in the corner was simply a block of clay with a man's face and torso carved out of it.

"Wow…" I breathed out.

I took a step forward, and flinched when I felt something under my foot. I looked down, and saw a small piece of pottery—probably priceless, I decided bitterly—under my foot, now in more than one piece.

Whoops.

"Is it safe?" I heard Sawyer call out.

I reached down and picked on of the bigger pieces up. It seemed to be some sort of cup, worn around the edges and moulded to be something that was probably once drunken out of. When I looked at it under the light, I noticed that it wasn't broken or sharp on the sides. The cup wasn't part of whatever I had broken. It was just amongst the pieces.

Thank _god._

"Can we come down, or will we leave you in there?" Sawyer shouted.

The cup was black, and glazes slightly—and very smooth. There was some sort of inscription on the bottom of the cup, and I brought the light closer. It was a word—that was hard to read in the light—but I could just make it out.

_Phidias. _The bottom of the cup was labelled '_I belong to_ _Phidias.'_

"Miss Roberts!"

I flinched as I finally registered Sawyer's voice.

"Right," I shouted out. "Sorry. It's fine down here. It's some sort of ancient workshop or something. There's a cup down here—it says Phidias… does that help?"

There was a silence and for a second I thought he was actually going to lock me down here, like he had threatened.

Then there was what sounded very like a swear word from my grandfather's unmistakable voice, and a flurry of movement. Then suddenly, legs were in the hole and ropes were being set up and I barely had time to step out of the way before Sawyer's men were in the room.

As I did step back, however, I noticed the floor beneath my foot wobble slightly. I glanced down for a second, careful not to make it too obvious. The ground I was standing on was certainly not as firmly as the rest of the room. I was standing on some sort of floor.

Unless I was very much mistaken, I was standing on a trap door.

"Move that over there," one of the thugs ordered me, moving crates out of the way for Sawyer as he entered.

I did exactly that, pulling the crate that he pushed at me further towards me, and setting it on top of the imperceptible crack I saw in the floor. I stood on it, trying to look busy so that no one moved me from my spot. Maybe I could make up for accidentally leading Sawyer here, by not showing him my latest discovery.

Sawyer slipped through the hole—in a far more graceful fashion than I had, followed quickly by two more of his thugs, and then Franklin, Marion, Mutt and Indy, and the four more armed thugs.

"By God…" Franklin exhaled.

Now, in my entire life, I had never _ever _heard Franklin use the Lord's name in vain. So when he did so, I realised for the first time exactly how important this was to him. I swallowed, and kept my feet firmly on the ground. I was a little worried that it might crack under my feet again, but ignored it. This was important to Franklin. And it was important to me, even if it hadn't always been.

Mutt, Indy and Marion quickly made their way to my side, and I noticed, belatedly, that Mutt had red marks on his face—just like I'm sure I had—and Indy had a bleeding lip.

"You found this, doll?" Mutt muttered to me.

I nodded, still annoyed that they had deserted me back at the motel.

"How did you get here?" He then asked.

I could have been annoying and not said anything. He had been one of the decision makers in leaving me behind after all. But then I felt it would nice to see his reaction when he found out that I was as resourceful as him.

"I got a motorbike." I told him quietly.

Mutt's eyebrows went up and he frowned. I grinned for a second, thinking he was suspicious about how I had acquired such a ride, but I was disappointed soon after.

"You got a _motorbike?_ Where?"

Ah. He rides motorbikes.

Go figure.

I shrugged. "Yeah. They're not that hard to ride. Alexis taught me the basics, and I got the hang of it pretty quickly."

Mutt frowned—and this time I was sure it was less about the actual bike and more about the person who had loaned me the bike.

"Who the hell is _Alexis?"_ He demanded.

I smirked.

Sawyer silenced us before I had the chance to reply to Mutt. So I contended myself standing beside him and grinning to myself, despite our situation, while he thought about Alexis and who he was.

Sawyer rounded on me—or more specifically, the piece of broken pottery that I still held tightly in my hand.

"Where was it? Where did it say Pheidias?"

I quickly handed him the pottery, despite the pained look on Franklin's face. It was better to sacrifice the pottery—rather than any of our lives. Sawyer examined it for a moment, his smile turning from angry to gleeful in seconds, before he pocketed the piece of pottery.

"Do you see this, Franklin?" He asked loudly, strolling over to my grandfather. "I have discovered the _Workshop of Phidias._ This is further than you have ever come."

I didn't point out that it was _me _who had found the workshop. There were too many guns in the room.

He turned to me. "Do you know who Phidias was?" He asked me.

I shook my head. I didn't have a clue.

Indy, on the other hand, did.

"He was the man who designed the Statue of Zeus, not to mention the Athena Parthenos." Indy told him evenly. "The traveller Pausanias said that the statue was constructed in this very room. These tools would have been used on the actual statue."

I guessed that under normal circumstances, Sawyer would have had a problem with Indy answering what was very clearly at rhetorical question. But he seemed far too happy to notice that now. He lifted his hand in the air, s though he was thanking Zeus himself, and began to talk about all the things that this discovery would do for him.

"Mutt." I whispered out the corner of my mouth.

Mutt heard, and subtly leaned closer to me. "What is it, baby?"

I pursed my lips at the baby thing. So we were fine now? Just because we'd both been caught?

Oh, I think not.

I pushed this feeling down, and away, and focused. "There's a trap door." I said. "Beneath me."

Mutt frowned, but didn't look, like I was worried he might. He kept his gaze trained on Sawyer as he strolled around gloating and nodded slightly.

"You sure, Doll?" He asked.

Again, the doll thing miffed me a bit, but I disregarded it after a second.

"Yeah," I whispered. "It's hollow beneath my feet. And it moved when I stepped onto it earlier."

Mutt nodded again—so small that I barely noticed. "Don't do anything, Kit," he muttered to me. "We don't want them to notice."

I nodded, doing the tiny head nod thing. Our conversation finished quickly, and just in time. Sawyer finished gloating that second.

"Alright men!" He shouted out. "Let's get this up and out of here." He smiled at us. "You five, come over here. Celebrate with me."

He smiled grandly, pulling Franklin into a hug. Indy and Marion moved, knowing that that was their only option. I frowned.

My weight was on the trapdoor, and it had creaked when I stepped onto it. If I moved from it, it would certainly creak again. Mutt remained at my side as well, standing strong while I attempted to do the same.

Franklin frowned at us.

"Well come _on,_ Katerina." He told me. "Mr. Jones. Didn't I say join the celebra—?"

Half way though his sentence, one of the many thugs who weren't helping with the moving of priceless artefacts shoved me in the back. The sudden force sent me reeling forward and even over the sound of the shifting thugs, and the talking—the creak from the trap door was audible throughout the room.

Sawyer's face blanched for a second, before it changed into a furious scowl.

"Move her!" He shouted.

I closed my eyes, in defeat, as the thug who had pushed me stepped forward and shoved me roughly aside. Mutt made a violent move towards him, before realising himself and holding back the punch that he surely wanted to throw. I opened my eyes and watched in horror at the trapdoor was revealed to everyone.

Sawyer walked over to where I was standing and shoved aside the crate that I had placed there. He stared at the trap door for a moment, that was entirely too obvious for something that was supposed to be secret. In the better light, I noticed that it too had something engraved on it.

_ουσ. Σωτηρία_

I swallowed.

"Salvation," Indy translated breathlessly.

In a movement far too quick for a man of his age, Sawyer, who had bent over to examine the door more closely, stood straight again, and his left hand, that I hadn't really payed much attention to earlier, but now noticed was covered in a sleek black leather glove backhanded me across the face.

I stumbled, just like I had when Sawyer's man had hit me in the face with the gun, but this time, Mutt was there to catch me before I collided with the floor.

"Following in your grandfather's footsteps then, Katerina?" Sawyer snapped. Gone was the man who had feigned sophistication—and in his place was the _real _Sawyer: an angry, bitter old man. "Steal something that belongs to me."

I didn't say anything, just stared at him as I reached up to stop the blood following from my now split lip.

Sawyer inhaled angrily, pursing his lips while his nostrils flared. Then he sighed, and gestured at the door.

"You can go down this one first too, Miss Roberts," he said through clenched teeth. "Maybe that will teach you that your grandfather's footsteps are not the best ones to follow."

They were, I was tempted to say. But that would have earned me another slap. So instead, I pushed myself brazenly from Mutt's arms, wiped away more of the blood, and glared at him. I walked to him with purpose, and lowered myself into the trap door—all the while, keeping my angry glare on Sawyer's furious face.

"Not quite so fragile anymore then, Doll?" Mutt murmured audibly.

And even a Sawyer lowered me into the trap door that I had been trying so hard to hide from them, ignoring the second bruise that would surely show up on my face, all I could think about was how _honest to god _proud of myself I was for warranting such a compliment.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **Okay. So, just before I get messages about historical inaccuracies and whatnot I'll let you know what's real, and what's part of my author's imagination. Now, Pheidias was indeed the man who designed the Temple and the Statue, as well as Athena's Parthenos, and it was recorded as such by Pausanias. Pheidias's workshop was indeed discovered in 1958 (not by Indiana Jones, or a 21-year-old girl, but by a team of non-fictional archaeologists. They did find a black glaze cup inside, with the inscription 'I belong to Pheidias' engraved at the bottom, only in Greek.

Unfortunately, even though there was a basilica built on top of it, it was knocked down in an earthquake in AD 551. For the story's purpose, I pretended that it still existed. The workshop was also not quite as underground as I said. Also, as you can probably guess, there isn't actually any trapdoor or secret passageway beneath it (_that we know of… :P)_

I hope these historical inaccuracies don't both you guys too much. But the basilica, and the location of the workshop just make the story flow better. I know that this might bother some of you but I don't want to hear about it. I have informed you of everything, and I'm not interested in listening to you guys tell me how inaccurate I am, and how that doesn't work for you. If you don't like it, stop reading. But come on guys it's a work of fiction. Don't take it too seriously.

On the other hand, of course, I hope against hope that you liked this chapter, and if you did PLEASE review and give me your thoughts. I hope this update was quick enough for you guys.

Cheers. G.


	14. The Passage of the Salvaators

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

Beneath the trapdoor, it was darker than it had been when I initially peered into the room. I couldn't see anything this time—even though the light from the room above should have lit the area where I was standing. I kept my ground though, momentarily thanking myself for sending that postcard to Nancy, before I took a nervous step forward.

Nothing happened.

"I can't see a thing down here." I called back up.

The trap door wasn't that far about my head—barely a foot. I watched as Sawyer poked his head down. He pulled it out of my view again, and shoved the lantern he was holding in someone's direction, before ordering me to move away from the hole. I did, and watched as Mutt's body dropped thought the hole, the lantern in his hand lighting up the space.

"Why do we have these stupid things?" Mutt asked me, even though I had no more clue than he did. "Why can't he just bring a torch?"

I shrugged, and then turned my attention to the contents of the room—now visible by lantern light.

"Uh…" Mutt said slowly, confused.

I shared his sentiments.

We both jumped as another pair of feet appeared in the trap door, and Mutt hastily got out of the way as the nameless thug of Sawyer's joined us in the room.

The room was long—at least twenty metres long until the door that we could just see from the bad lighting. The room had seemingly been made to house the long eighteen metre long table that sat, piled to the roof with food, in the middle of the room.

Or, maybe the table had been built to fit the room.

It didn't really matter. I wasn't too distracted by the actual length of the table, but more so by the food on top of the table.

I could see gourmet food from every single culture in the entire world. There was Japanese sushi, and the puffer fish dish that I recognised from one of my old geography assignments in middle school. I could see Italian pasta dishes, Europeans delicacies like lobster, and caviar and everything else that I could think of. There was Chinese food, Greek food, and even a few hamburgers on the table.

And that wasn't even the most impressive part.

The table, for starters, was covered with a huge table clothe of lace—that sparkled with the gold that had been sewn into it. Diamonds and gems were also sewn intricately into the lace, hanging delicately off the side of the table.

Every single meal that sat on the table, the thousands and thousands of them, had been presented on unblemished plates of gold or silver, or bronze. They were sided by smaller plate and cutlery of the same materials. Every ornament on the table was embedded with the same impressive gems that had been sewn into the lace. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds—any jewel you could imagine.

Every now and again, down the long, long table, were small statues; golden statues of the gods and goddesses—Athena, Aphrodite, Poseidon and more. The statues were covered—clothed, even—in expensive materials. Not the lace of the tablecloth, but softer, thinner silks and satins.

I was distracted from my analysis of the room by the familiar old scuffed shoes sinking into the hole, and I quickly got Mutt to help me get Franklin slowly to the floor. Dusting himself off as he steadied himself Franklin looked up.

He too saw the content of the room and took a step back. This time he didn't say anything. Instead, his jaw dropped, and he stared, with wide awe-filled eyes at the room that we were in.

Unlike Franklin, Mutt and I, however, Sawyer's man—who had come in before Franklin—only hesitated momentarily before stepping forward to stand closer to the table.

"No—Don't!"

He reached forward and lifted one of the bejewelled pieces of cutlery up, staring at it in awe.

"This is amazing." He said to us, clearly not worried that we were supposed to be his prisoners. "This would cost how much?"

None of us answered, staring at him in horror. Franklin and Mutt had clearly seen this situation enough times to know that touching without thinking was a bad idea. Me? I'd just seen the horror movies.

I whimpered slightly, as he lifted the knife and put it in his pocket. He was still smiling at me when he froze. I didn't notice Sawyer dropping from the roof, followed closely by Marion and Indy. I could only focus on the enthusiastic man who was now staring at me in horror.

His eyes were widened to the limits. His mouth was opened, as though was was screaming, but no sound came from his voice. For a moment, I thought he was just playing us—since nothing was happening, but then I noticed it. I could see the table _through _him.

The man, like the candles in the lantern that Mutt was holding, was flickering. He was solid, and then see-through and then solid again. It continued for seconds like this—his face frozen in the eternal shout of terror—when he didn't become solid again. Everything was changing with him; his clothes, his hat… even his _gun. _Everything that touched him was changing like him—except for the golden knife in his pocket—that I could see through his jacket.

I moved forward, trying to touch him and comfort him and maybe help him. But Mutt caught my arm in his firm grasp before I could take more than one step.

And then, I let out a shout, as the man was lifted into the air. He hovered above the table for a moment, his eyes still wide with fright—before he was pulled back at a startling pace towards the door that we could only faintly see at the other end of the room. As he flew down the room lights-that I hadn't seen before—came on, flame igniting and lighting up the large room perfectly.

Then the door flew open.

I could only stare in horror as thousands and thousands of grey see-through faces appeared at the door, eyes opened in the same petrified fashion as Sawyer's man's was. They held out see-through arms to catch him—and as soon as they did the door slammed closed.

The room was silent.

The knife, that had been removed form the table, fell to the ground with a thunk, before it too zoomed back to the table of it's own accord, settling itself perfectly back in it's old position.

Everyone in the room who had seen what transpired—Mutt, Franklin, Me, Marion, Indy, Sawyer, and three of his men who had dropped down while I had been watching—all stared, silently at the door.

"Well," I concluded loudly. "This is clearly not the right way."

The only other people in the room who shared my sentiments were two of Sawyer's men. With their face pale, the two of them bent over and held out their hands, as a step for me to walk up. I was walking towards them already, when Sawyer's hand caught the back of my shirt and flung me away from the exit.

I shrieked as I fell towards the table, but it was unnecessary, since I landed on the floor good few feet away from the actual table itself.

I glowered up at Sawyer as Marion helped me to my feet. Sawyer ignored me, walking over to Franklin and clapping him on the shoulder.

"You go first, old man." He told him.

I frowned, considering that the age gap between Franklin and Sawyer couldn't be more than five years, but no one else pointed out this little inaccuracy.

Franklin didn't hesitate, however, confidently stepping past Sawyer closer to the table. He walked past it, being careful not to touch the actual table but not too worried about it himself.

I frowned, horrified.

Mutt rubbed my back comfortingly as he followed Franklin past the table. He put himself between the table, and me in some sort of subconscious gesture that I recognised, even if Mutt didn't. "Remember Doll?" He murmured in my ear. "_Chose of pure intent_?"

I frowned, confused.

"That was the second one." I told him hastily. "What about the East and West one?" I could remember them by heart—having been the one to read them from the actual Labours.

"We already used that one," he told me quietly. "The basilica? It's to the west of the Temple. Franklin and my dad both think that when it says the 'sun rises' it's talking about Zeus, you know? And you have to go west to find him?"

That made sense. But it was guesswork.

If Franklin had this wrong then not only was this going to be Sawyer's biggest find, but Franklin's grave.

As the large group of us walked down, following Franklin to the door at the far end of the room, no one else was foolish enough to touch the table. But when Franklin reached the door, and extended his arm to pull it open, even Sawyer stepped back in apprehension. Indy lunged forward however, stopping Franklin before he could pull the door open.

"Franklin!"

Franklin smiled at Indy. "I've been studying the Temple of Zeus all my life, Indiana. He was known as a patron of hospitality for his guests. Zeus _Xenios._"

Indy frowned. "_That _wasn't very hospitable." He motioned to the table, but everyone knew he was referring to the demise of Sawyer's man.

Franklin smiled sadly. "He wasn't a good guest. He was always ready to avenge wrong done by a stranger."

Which made sense. Because Sawyer's man had lifted one of the golden knives, and pocketed it—with every intention of keeping it. And if what Franklin was saying was true—and it usually was—it meant that he had died for his greed.

Nonetheless, that didn't stop me as I held my breath and squeezed Mutt's hand while Franklin pulled the door open.

And it was certainly the definition of an anti-climax. The door was just like any other—normal and only a gateway to the next room. Not to the next realm or to the life after this. Simply to the continued passage.

It seemed Franklin knew his stuff.

**xXxXx**

Despite the fact that Franklin had clearly displayed his knowledge of this place, there was still some trouble getting everyone to walk through the door. Sawyer was happy to do so, as soon as Franklin, Mutt, Indy, Marion and I had done so before him. And the men, anxious for their payment, followed nervously after Sawyer—none of them were too enthusiastic about it, however.

I couldn't help but think about what could possibly be in this space.

This was less of a room, and more of a passage. The stairs were carved into the floor, and they led deep into the ground—where it was getting more and more humid and dark. There was a noise, at the bottom, that I couldn't quite distinguish, and since I couldn't see the bottom there was no way to tell what it was.

We stared at the top of the stairs, the large room at the head of the passage where everyone could see the stairs.

"At least we have the lights." One of Sawyer's men commented sarcastically, as we all considered the large trek we had coming up.

It was unnervingly still in there, even though I didn't know exactly what else it could have been. It was wet—I could hear dripping as the drops from the ceiling hit the floor.

"Alright," Franklin called out. "I'll lead. Then Indy and Marion, and then Kitty and then Mutt—" he caught Sawyer's angry eye, and coughed slightly. "I assume you still want us to go ahead, Hugh?"

Sawyer scowled. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you're in charge here, Franklin." He snarled.

Franklin shook his head. "I wouldn't dream of it, Hugh."

Sawyer's scowl deepened.

"You will have some of my men, up the front with you." Sawyer declared. "Between your granddaughter and your Mr. Jones. Daniels! O'Neil!"

The two reluctant men—one of whom I recognised to be the man who had slammed his gun into my face—stepped forward and placed themselves between me and Indy. We then organised ourselves in the fashion that Franklin had suggested, and Sawyer positioned himself directly behind Mutt. The trek down the stairs began with everyone nervous. I grasped Mutt's hand tightly, holding my hand back to find some comfort in him being behind me. The steps continued down, winding in what seemed like a ridiculous fashion, zigzagging continuously and going on for what seemed like forever.

Every now and again, Franklin would call out a warnings that would worry me. Warnings like: "It's slippery, here," or "There's a particularly large step here."

He was beyond seventy, I reminded myself, and this was no place for a man that age. His reflexes weren't as quick as they once were.

But I soon forgot this.

I think it may have been Indy who noticed the disparity first. He hesitated, suddenly, causing Sawyer's two men to almost fall over him as he disrupted the pattern walking that everyone else had fallen into. He recovered quickly, leaving me and Mutt puzzled, while everyone else wrote it off as an old man's mistake. But it didn't take long for me to notice anyway.

Even as I focused intently on the stairs that we were walking down, I noticed every few seconds movements in the corner of my eye that made my head flick to see what they were. Every time I looked, there was nothing there, so I disregarded it as my imagination.

Mutt, it seemed, had been subtler as he searched for what was making me jump. I didn't see what he saw, and didn't know what he was going to do until he reached out and grasped my shoulders quickly—as though he was saving me from stumbling, even though I hadn't stumbled.

"Careful there," he warned me jokingly, before bending over slightly—as though he was still steadying me. I felt his hot breath on my ear. "Watch the walls…" He warned me quietly. I had pressed a quick kiss to my head, and ignoring Sawyer's obnoxious laugh, had straightened and continued walking normally.

I did exactly what he told me. Watching the walls, this time out of the corner of my eye, rather than obviously staring at them, and for a few minutes I had no idea what I was doing—until I saw it.

There, right in front of my eyes, I watched as something on the wall face moved—as though a bug had been caught beneath a sheet of material, until it opened, and I realised exactly what it was.

An eye.

I managed to stop myself before I made too much of a noise, and took a deep breath. There was no way we could let Indy or Marion know, and certainly not Franklin, without alerting everyone—including the eyes—that we knew something was wrong.

I noticed them more obviously now. They were jumping out of the walls everywhere—and the roof as well. Every few seconds they would appear, for milliseconds, before disappearing back into the wall again and showing up somewhere else.

"Oh god," One of Sawyer's thugs muttered as he slipped on the stair and steadied himself. "What are we doing here?"

His friend, the one who had hit me, rolled his eyes. "Don't be a girl, O'Neil," he ordered his friend. "We're here for the money—!"

I screamed as hands shot out of the wall and grabbed him. I couldn't help it. Daniels—I assumed that was who he was—struggled momentarily against the pale, deathly white hands that had him, but was no match for them. Within second they had lifted him off his feet and pulled—pulling him against the wall.

I expected, for a moment for Daniels to simply hit the wall. But I shouldn't have. Instead of colliding with the wall like any physical body would have—Daniels disappeared through, screaming at the top of his lungs as the hands clawed at him.

It was deathly silent. Mutt had slammed a hand over my mouth in the middle of my screen, keeping me entirely quiet and everyone was sensible enough to be still and silent on their own.

Well, except of O'Neil.

"What the _hell _was tha—?"

This time, I knew it was coming, I watched as the hand sprung out of the wall, and flinched violently when one of the fingers brushed past my skin. They didn't seem to care for me; it seemed and went straight for O'Neil, pulling him into the wall exactly that same way that they had pulled in Daniels.

This time, no one waited to see if O'Neil had survived his trip through the walls. All it took was Indy's loud and urgent shout: "RUN!" to have everyone sprinting down the stairs at double pace.

I could still feel the fingers on me though. Where they had touched my arm.

It had left a cold feeling.

A cold, uncomfortable empty feeling that felt like death.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **Well? Wasn't that dramatic? Before I get called for plagiarism, I got the idea for the eyes in the walls from a brilliant Buffy the Vampire Slayer fic that I read about three years ago, and I always intended to feature the eyes in the walls in this fic. Unfortunately, the author of this fic is unnamed, and I can't credit it to her/him. Let it be known—IT BELONGS TO THAT ACTUAL AUTHOR AND IS NOT MINE! (Even if I wish it was.) :P

Thanks to everyone who stuck with me over the past couple of chapters, and I promise to update soon. We're nearing the end, so extra feedback would be brilliant! Keep up the good work you guys! :P

Thanks for reading!

G.


	15. Keys to Kitty

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

_New York, America, 25__th__ December 1953,_

"Cut the gas…!" I said accusingly, narrowing my eyes at my parents.

We were all grouped around the Christmas tree. I sat on the ground, looking up at my parents and granddad while they waited patiently or me to finish opening my presents. It was a nice perk of being an only child, I thought for a moment, to be the centre of attention all the time. I liked the attention.

"What?" Dad asked, with a frown. He was fiddling with his camera—brand new from the store—a big clunky black thing that flashed too brightly every time I stood to take a picture. "We thought you'd like it…"

I stared at the hair and make up kit that my mother had clearly chosen, no matter what my father said. It was nice, and a big step up from the other kit I had—purchased when I turned thirteen and practically empty now, three years later.

"I don't mean I don't like it," I hastened to explain. "I think it's awesome." I turned my grin to my parents, smiling broadly. "I love it. Thank you so much."

Dad laughed, but was distracted by a flash from his lap. He stared, in confusion down at the camera that he had just taken a picture with.

"Honey," my mother cooed, with her kind smile. "You have to stop doing that. We'll have more photos of the ceiling, than of our family by the time we get the film developed."

My dad continued to stare down at the camera, as though daring it to take another picture.

My mother sighed—she was fighting a loosing battle.

Franklin—my grandfather—on the other hand, chuckled at his son-in-law's crazy antics, before turning to me.

"Is that all your presents then Kat?"

I nodded, smiling appreciatively at the nickname. My grandmother had been the first to coin the phrase, and every time I heard it I was reminded of her lavender smell and big loving green eyes. I couldn't remember much of my time with her—I was six when we scattered her ashes in the canals of Venice—but I could clearly see her impact on my family. Franklin still loved her with every ounce of his being, and every now and again, I was see my mother staring into the street with a vacant look on her face, and I would know she was thinking about her.

I scanned my pile of presents with an appreciative gaze.

"That's all of them." I said with a grin. "Is it Mum's and Dad's turn now?"

That was a rhetorical question. Our Christmas's had a bit of a ritualistic feel to them by now. Every single year Franklin would come back from wherever he had been teaching or studying or doing whatever he did to stay at our house for the festive week. We would always stay up late Christmas eve and play board games, before bed time—and when we'd wake, I would open my presents, then my parents, then lunch. And then Franklin would open his presents after we'd eaten.

So my Dad put down his camera, and reached for the present nearest to him.

Their pile of presents was considerably smaller than mine. Not only were their presents smaller in literal size—a lot of envelopes and tiny boxes that could fit into my palm—but they lessened in number as well.

They didn't seem to mind, even though I knew I would have if my presents got gradually smaller and smaller. They went through every tiny present, giving us loud descriptions of who the senders were before opening them and expressing how much they liked the presents. It wasn't long before there was only one present left.

Dad looked at the envelope before opening it. Then he smiled.

"This one's from you Franklin!" He said, excitedly. "Quickly honey, open it. Your dad always brings the best gifts."

My mother smiled excitedly, and reached for the envelope. She slipped her finger down the side and tore at the top, pulling out the card.

"Dear Richard and Molly," she narrated from the card. "I hope you enjoy your present—you've been talking about it for years, now. Love forever, Franklin."

Mum smiled up at Franklin.

"I'm intrigued now," she said with a smile. "What have you gotten us into?"

Dad laughed loudly. "Quick, dear—sate my curiosity. What grand extravagant gift has your father gotten us this year?"

Franklin just smiled broadly and motioned for her to look at the envelope again.

She did, pulling out the other two slips of paper from the envelope.

She frowned as she examined them. "Two pre-paid tickets to _Australia?" _She looked at Franklin with wide eyes, while I stared in shock.

_Australia?_

Ew.

My dad stared at the envelope with wide eyes, for once in his life entirely silent.

Franklin smiled. "You've always expressed interest going there, Molly," he said. "You've been talking about it for years and I've got the money to pay for it. This is my gift to you. Please tell me I didn't make the wrong decision."

My mum shook her head hurriedly.

"Oh dad! Of course not! This is _brilliant!" _

As they sunk into a steady flow of conversation about Australia and all the brilliant things they'd get to do there, I frowned. Only _two _tickets?

Did he ever stop to consider that maybe _I _would want to go with them?

"The tickets expire in March," Franklin explained. "The flight's in February—but you can move it to any time between now and the expiry date. I had a friend, and called in a couple of favours." He smiled over at me. "Unfortunately, I didn't want to interrupt Kat's studies."

Mum and Dad hurriedly agreed that that was the best.

I scowled.

"Alrighty!" I said, loudly. "So that's your presents done, just in time for lunch."

I had gotten a lot of things. Mostly clothes and make up—some jewellery, even though I could tell that the gems were fake, so they wouldn't be something I could wear to school. I had also received a painting from Franklin, and a very large sum of money to take shopping from my dad's sister—Auntie Judith.

But no plane ticket.

Franklin smiled down at me.

"Ooh, that reminds me," my mum hurriedly got to her feet, wide eyed. She looked straight to my dad. "Honey, could you go get the salads from the fridge? I'll get the chicken from the oven."

My dad, never one to argue with my mother when it came to cooking, stood quickly and diligently did as he was instructed. My mother bustled after him, into the kitchen, leaving my granddad and I alone to listen to the Christmas record that my mum had bought a few years ago.

"So," Franklin said, leaning down and smiling at me. "How's school going?"

This series of questions always annoyed me. I liked it when people showed an interest in my life—I was interesting enough that was for sure. Especially if that new girl in my class Nancy was as cool as she told me she was. But when the series of questions about your life came from family?

Not so much fun.

"Fine, thanks." I said with a slightly forced smile.

"I've heard stories from your parents about all these parties you want to go to," Franklin said ,as though he had stumbled across a juicy piece of gossip. He smirked at me, like he knew what I was going through. "You must be very popular to receive all those invitations…"

He wasn't lying. I was popular. Something about me, people gravitated towards. People _liked _me. And more than that—the _right _people liked me. I was in the right crowds, knew the right people, and going to the right places. I had tried out for the Cheerleading squad again only a few weeks ago—even though I knew there was no point. I had been a member since I started middle school, and the tryouts were just an excuse to get rid of the people who didn't have any talent.

And _I _had talent.

I kept it modest though. "Oh I know a few people," I said with a smile. "But only the important people."

Again, Franklin looked a little taken aback, but I ignored it. The sooner this conversation was over, _the better. _

"And you're grades?" Franklin asked with a grin.

I flinched, imperceptibly. While the rest of my life was, by definition, _perfect_ the grades were something I hadn't been focusing on so much. In fact, I needed tutoring in most every class—and had been personally approached by almost all my teachers who went on about my 'lack of focus' and 'getting my priorities sorted out.'

"I'm pretty much breezing through," I told him with a smile.

There was a lovely moment of awkward silence, while I fiddled withmy new make up kit, and Franklin stared awkwardly into his coffee cup.

He took a deep breath.

"How's the love life going?"

Whenever family members—mostly Aunt Judith—brought this question up, in the past, I would have blanched.

Until recently, I couldn't have fathomed being interested in boys. Boys in general were annoying. Girls that I knew always went on about how brilliant they were, and how in love they were with their respective boyfriends, but to me, boys were the same; Gross, filthy and all to eager to get dirty—in the _dirt_.

But then I had met him.

His blonde hair, and his blue eyes and his adorable smile that made me feel as though I was floating.

Still, this wasn't something I was keen on sharing with Franklin.

I had learned since the awkward questioning days. I had honed the perfect method in getting parents (or any relatives) to back off.

"It's jazzy." I told him with a grin. "I met this totally smoking guy in my fifth period calculus class. His name's Scott…"

Franklin looked slightly taken aback, but I always knew that this was the path one should take when quizzed by relatives.

Quick, over sharing and brutal were the keys to get them to back off.

It seemed to be working Franklin leant away from me a little, as though he didn't really know who he was talking to, and a smiled a little to myself.

"Lunch is ready!" My mother called quickly. "Sorry for the wait, you guys," she gushed. "The food's on the table." She looked oddly at Franklin. "Dad?" she frowned. "You okay?"

He nodded hurriedly. "Oh yes, yes…" he reassured her. "Kat was just telling me about… _her life."_

My mum got that straight away. She hurried to Franklin's side with a breezy laugh. "I should have warned you." She said good-naturedly, even though she was looking at me with a tired pleading look.

Franklin laughed—in a way that was uncannily similar to my mothers and made me feel a pang of _something_ in my gut. "Don't worry, Molly," he hastened to brush it all off. "All in good fun," he smiled at me.

And I felt annoyed because it was sincere. He was totally fine with my over sharing. He might even try again in a few minutes. I frowned.

"Lunch, anyone?"

**xXxXx**

_Underneath Phidias's Workshop, 1958, _

I became less and less aware of what was going on around me as we raced hurriedly down the stairs.

I could tell Mutt's hands were on my waist—pressing me forward, and I could still hear the screams of the men behind us who were being pulled through the walls for reason unknown. I knew that Marion, was half pushing, half pulling Indy down the stairs at a pace I couldn't imagine, and I knew that Franklin was moving unimaginably fast for a man his age.

I was also very much aware of the arms and hands that continued to dart out in front of us and behind us, and the eyes that weren't bothering to hide any more.

There was no conversation—I highly doubted that any one could even manage to form a single sentence as we ran. Not even a question of what was going on, or—better yet—how we were going to survive it.

If we were going to survive it, that is.

Mutt's grip on my waist tightened, and vaguely, in some part of my brain that was relaxed at this point in time, I registered it. It probably meant that inside his head, Mutt was preparing to literally lift me up and carry me if I became necessary.

Sawyer was running behind us. There weren't many of his men left now, but I noticed that he had a gun in his hand—that hadn't been there before. He seemed very at odds with the idea of being at the middle of the line now.

I looked up, for barely a split second—and my mind froze.

Everything else continued. I kept running, moving my feet down those stairs as quickly as I could possibly do so. I kept my grasp on Mutt's hand as tight as ever, and my breath continued to come out of my lungs in a painful, _painful _way.

The arms continued to fly out of the walls, brushing past my face and my clothes, leaving their cold touch stinging all over me. They grabbed and pulled at my hair but I kept on running.

Even though my mind was focused on one single thing.

The stairs were ending, and we were fast approaching a door.

For a moment I was at ends—my head told me to slow down, to give my brain more time to think about what I could do with this door. To have more time to think. But my self preservation had kicked in, and I couldn't stop running. I wouldn't stop running. If I stopped running, or even slowed a bit, I would meet exactly the same fate as so many of this 'discovery party' that Sawyer had us leading.

So I kept running.

"Kat!" I heard a loud shout. "Kat, you need to come up the front!"

I frowned. Franklin was still running as fast as anyone else, but he was shouting out—and the door was getting ever closer and closer.

"Kat! NOW!"

I did exactly this. I gave about a seconds thought to Mutt at my waist before running as _fast as I could_ away from him. I barely registered his hands slipping from my waist when I past his parents, who had split to be closer to the walls so that I could pass them.

Then I was running beside Franklin.

"The rings," Franklin wheezed—still running. The door for barely ten metres from us. "You're wearing them."

They seared like hot metal on my finger, and I nodded, totally aware of them. I hadn't taken them off since I had found out what they were.

"They're the key, Kitty. _They're the key."_

And, as the door reached about a metre from me, I skidded to a halt. The hand instantly reached out and grabbed my legs and I screamed, but held onto the handle—with my left hand. My right hand—the one on which the rings sat—flailed helplessly for a moment, before I scowled and pushed it forward.

I grasped the door handle tightly with my hand—and prayed.

**xXxXx**

**A/N: **Here endeth chapter 15. It's been very dramatic hasn't it?

Anyway, PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE.

To ALL of you who have favourited this story and added it to your alerts—how much harder is it to simply click the prettier button and type away a couple of sentences of feedback?

Cheers. G.

PS. Thoughts on the flashback that took up the majority of this chapter? Cookies go to good people. And good people review. (keep that in mind)

PPS. Sorry about the long updates. But I've got about a gazhmillion stories and fics to work on. I promise I will finish this story. You've just got to give me some time. :P :P


	16. Snapped

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

Once the door was open the few seconds that followed were oddly simply. As soon as the metal of the rings touched the handle—bronze or rusted metal of _some _sort—the door flew open, the hinges swinging so violently that they pulled me with it. I let go in my surprise and flew, a few good metres through the air, with enough time to lift my hands in front of my head as I collided with the wall. I fell quickly, gravity pulling me to the dirty floor, and lay there, moaning for a few seconds, before my mind returned.

I pushed myself off the ground quickly, to see Franklin and Indy inside, Franklin quickly rushing to me, while Indy looked at the door, ready to push it shut when everyone was inside. As Mutt and Sawyer approached the door, Sawyer elbowed Mutt out of the way—making Marion, who had entered seconds earlier, shout out in horror—but for no reason. Mutt had time enough to roll his eyes as he followed the man through the door and quickly assisted his father as they closed it.

The arms didn't seem anxious to give up. They clawed their way around the door handle—but it seemed that they couldn't pass beyond the threshold, and as Indy and Mutt slammed the door on their fingers they made a hasty retreat.

I stared out the corridor, watching with unblinking eyes as one last pair of eyes stared back at me. I kept its gaze until the door cut through my line of sight and clicked close.

On the other side of the door, it was surprisingly, unnervingly quiet.

The room we were in was a smallish room. The walls were set mud, and the floor was covered with dust from the walls that had fallen only because of the gravity and aging. The sight of faint footprints in the ground took my off guard. They would have been a result of someone's movements over a thousand years ago.

I swallowed.

I blinked slightly, my head throbbing from the sudden hit. Looking away from the footprints, I my eyes focused on Sawyer. I watched as the old man's chest rose and fell three times. His eyes remained close, his teeth clenched as the air rushed between them. In his left hand, the gun that had previously been holstered shook uncontrollably as the anger he could barely contain fought to overcome him.

"Franklin." He finally seethed. "A word. _Now."_

With one look at the gun Franklin knew better than to deny him that. With one last solemn look at me he pushed himself to his feet and made his slow way over to Sawyer. As soon as he was within reach, Sawyer's angry arm snapped out and grabbed his wrist, furiously yanking him forward.

He pulled him into one of the 'kind-of-corners' of the small room and they immediately began talking in harsh whispers.

Or rather, Sawyer was whispering harshly. Franklin was just listening, taking the words in his stride.

Mutt, Indy and Marion took the time that we had away from Sawyer's attention to say the things we hadn't yet been able to say.

"Henry—are you alright?"

"Yes, dear,"

"Ya."

Marion sighed in relief as both the Henrys in the room responded positively. Indy and Mutt both paused for a moment, amused at their combined answer, before they continued to take advantage of Sawyer's momentary lack of attention.

Mutt got on the floor beside me, smiling slightly. "Doll, you alright?" Mutt whispered as soon as he was at my side.

I nodded, forgetting to be angry at him. My heart rate was coming back down, and the rings around my fingers glowed.

"How did they work?" I asked, looking at them—the heat that emanated from them was hot enough for me to notice enough—but not nearly enough to compel me to move them.

Mutt looked at me incredulously.

I hastily nodded my head some more. "I'm fine." I reassured him, with a smile—the memory of my anger at his part of leaving me behind fading. At this point, getting in and out of here remained the target—nothing as petty as my mere fury.

Not that it was gone. Oh no—it was just waiting.

I looked back to the rings, twisting them in my fingers. Mutt pushed my hand down—his fingers covering it and blocking the ring from view. With his other hand, he reached for my chin and pulled my head up, bringing my lips to meet his.

I kissed him softly, closing my eyes for a moment, before pulling away. Mutt did the same, instead choosing to rest his forehead against mine.

"Are you..._okay?" _

For the third time, I nodded—smiling. "I'm fine. I don't want to jinx it—but I see being alive as a positive win—yeah?"

Mutt grinned slightly, both his hands reached to hold my neck. I revelled in the smell of him—the leather and the scent of all things Mutt—before smiling again.

We were jolted from our sweet moment by the sound of Sawyer's temper finally snapping.

"SHUT UP, ROBERTS"

Franklin sighed.

"Hugh, you _have_ to understand." Franklin pleaded with him.

"This place—this entire legend and everything that surrounds it—is shrouded by the mythology of another, unfamiliar religion. We don't and shouldn't ever _hope_ to understand it." Franklin said, staring up at Sawyer.

Sawyer scoffed. "Of _course,_ we'll understand it, _Frank._" He said patronisingly, rolling his eyes. "This is the age of intelligence. Everything that we want to know, we will find out. We know the gods, the practices, the rites and the celebrations. _What more is there?"_

"What more is there?" echoed Indy. His gaze flicked around the room, before returning to rest on Sawyer, his eyes wide and incredulous. "This is an entirely new civilisation. This is one of the Seven Wonders of the World... this isn't just another cash trip."

Sawyer rolled his eyes.

Indy continued: "This tunnel—this discovery that you hope to make—it's a marker of an entirely different _culture._ It certainly isn't just a large piece of gold you can take home and cash in."

Sawyer laughed again.

His laugh was dry—he shook his head and he rolled his eyes as though we were the naive ones in the room. Although in hindsight—we probably were.

The next thing I knew, Sawyer himself had a gun pointed at my head.

As I had come to expect, there was an instant struggle and Mutt and Indy took urgent steps forward to prevent something bad happening, while Franklin clutched me tighter to him—and Marion froze, eyes wide. Sawyer had also come to expect it, it seemed, and he rolled his eyes.

"NO!" He roared, his finger lifting to flick some sort of switch at the back of the gun, making a noise that I recognised now (having, at this stage, had many a gun pointed at my face) to the arming of the weapon. "Nobody will move."

Everyone, understandably, did as he said.

"I have had _enough_ of your _culture. _I have had enough of your holier-than-thou antics, Franklin, and I have had enough of your old fashioned—save the world archaeology skills, _Dr. Jones."_ He shook the gun at my head as he put emphasis of Indy's name.

"If anything," Sawyer continued, "_anything,_ at all, goes wrong from now—I _will_ not hesitate to put a bullet in precious Katarina's head and be done with it. And then I'll continue with the mother, and then the boy, your archaeologist friend, and then _you,_ Franklin, if it becomes necessary," he threatened. "Not you—or anyone else—will stop me taking that statue and keeping it. The power that comes with that relic is unimaginable—and it _will be mine."_

A momentary silence followed his furious speech.

It didn't please Sawyer.

"GO!"

Mutt and I scrambled to our feet—Mutt placed himself between the gun and myself as soon as possible. Sawyer rolled his eyes at us, before pointing the gun again in the only direction we could now head.

We walked for a few moments in silence—and then the shuffling began. We could hear it—the movement of _something_ on the other side of the walls that surrounded us. There were no eyes this time—just the persistent sound of a scratching that sent shivers down my spine.

Our pace was steadily increasing, and soon, we had all begun to mutter to or amongst ourselves to take out minds off it.

"Well, doll," Mutt whispered to me, his grip around my hands tightening slightly. I was only a little bit aware of Sawyer still behind us, muttering to himself a list of what he would do as soon as his discovery was made public. "It looks like we've got a bit of time, and if we die in a few minutes I'd like to be able to know some stuff."

Really? We were going to do this here?

I voiced my hesitations quickly, and Mutt rolled his eyes.

"Listen up, doll. I know for a fact that you have a boyfriend back home, as well as a bunch of paper-shakers for friends. I just want to know what the plan is when we get back."

It was a fair enough request. There was about a seventy-percent chance that we would be dead within the hour, so I couldn't really see the harm in answering his questions.

Of course, I didn't have the answers.

"I don't know." I said quickly.

That answer didn't seem to satisfy Mutt.

"I don't want to get into a fight, Kit," Mutt said—sending me into a moment of bewilderment as I analysed the new name... "I just want to—I mean, I didn't—this isn't just because you're here, you know?"

It took me a moment to figure out what he was saying.

And while the sentence 'this isn't just because you're here' might not have been the most romantic words ever uttered, it filled me with a ridiculous sense of happiness—not nearly acceptable in our current environment.

"So you're saying that I'm not just convenient?" I verified.

Mutt nodded.

"And that this isn't just some sort of archaeologist greaser fling?"

Not that 'archaeologist greaser flings' came around often—but Mutt seemed to understand. Again he nodded in affirmation.

"And you want this to be something that continues when we get home?"

Mutt looked at me. His rarely serious gaze remained trained on me as he analysed my face for a moment. His grip around my hand tightened more than it had since we had been running from the hands. In that moment of silence, I became aware of the scratching again, and shuddered.

Then Mutt nodded his head.

I couldn't stop the smile that broke out onto my face. Forgetting thoughts of an injured Scott in the hospital, and how PO'd Nancy would be when she found out—I couldn't help the next swell of excitement that gathered in my chest.

Mutt smiled at me.

I looked back to the floor, smiling bashfully as we continued walking.

"Well," I began, before I noticed Mutt's other hand moving in my peripheral vision. I looked back to him to see his comb in his hand, as he ran it through his hair.

"You've got to be kidding." I declared.

He looked perplexed. "What?"

I rolled my eyes.

"With Scott," I said, much more plainly than I had been going to. "We'll figure it out when we get home. Obviously, we'll be breaking up—but it's probably not a good idea to tell him that I've been with you the entire time—this is, of course, considering that we might not even be at that point when we get home, if you don't put the damn _comb_ away."

Mutt smirked at me.

I rolled my eyes again.

"So, you're dumping Joe College?" he affirmed, as he slipped the comb back into his pocket.

I smiled slightly.

"Yes. That is exactly what I'll do... assuming we don't die in the next hour."

Mutt grinned.

"Here's hoping."

**xXxXx**

I was more nervous confronting the third door, than I was with the others. It seemed that at every obstacle like this—our ordeal got worse and more dangerous. It was certainly not good for one's health.

"What was the third verse?" Indy asked quickly, when they reached the door.

"_The strongest of your party shall guide you through," _Marion chanted quickly—having memorised them all the best of us all.

There was a silence as we all digested that.

"Well that's one of you two, then isn't it?" Mutt said. "Everyone knows that in these parts 'strength is knowledge,'" he looked pointedly at Franklin and Indy.

Sawyer cleared his throat, affronted.

I hid my smirk behind Mutt's shoulder.

Mutt hastily corrected himself, still aware of the cocked gun on Sawyer's hand. "Uh—three. I said you three—you guys heard me say three, yeah?"

Marion and I hastily nodded our heads.

Sawyer rolled his eyes.

"As strength is indeed _knowledge,_ I am clearly the one to guide you all."

It seemed obvious to the rest of us that that was not the case. Nevertheless, the man with the gun was the strongest physically, and therefore none of us were willing to challenge him.

"Kat—we're going to need the keys." Franklin said with an apologetic smile.

I nodded and shrugged them off my fingers—passing them to my grandfather. Begrudgingly, Franklin handed them to Sawyer, who smirked as he put them on his fingers.

The door handle of this door was ornate—probably some sort of gold or silver. Sawyer had learnt his lesson when it came to greediness—_all _of his multitudes of men were dead, at this point. So he left the expensive looking handle alone, in favour of more valuable things on the other side.

As soon as the ring came into contact with the door handle, the scratching increased tenfold. The tunnel through which we had just walked, began to echo the sound—and displaced dirt began to fall from the ceiling.

Sawyer hastily pushed on the door.

Nothing happened.

If we weren't in what looked to be a dire situation, I would have laughed at the look of pure fury on Sawyer's face as he realised that it wouldn't open for him. The handle turned perfectly—but the door seemed sealed in it's place.

"Well—that—I am the strongest—I am the most learned of us all!" He protested like a chld.

"We don't have time for this," Marion urged him. "Give the rings to someone else."

Sawyer shook his head. "I will not. This door will accept me as the strongest."

Marion shook her head. "At the moment we just need to get through. If you don't you will not reach the statue."

With clenched teeth, Sawyer wrenched the delicate bands from his fingers and forced them into Franklin's hands. His fingers were larger than mine—so the rings that had sat snugly on my ring finger, and on Sawyer's pointer finger, only just fit his pinkie.

He reached for the door handle and pushed.

As soon as the door opened the scratching ceased entirely. I swallowed slightly—as Franklin pushed the door open further than the mere inch.

Mutt's hand grasped mine—not letting go, as we all went through.

We observed the next room.

It was white. Well, not white. It looked white because of the blinding light that emanated from a hole in the roof. It was so bright, in fact, that when I looked I could only look a second because it hurt to continue.

The light reflected off the otherwise sandy coloured room. There was no paint—no walls and certainly no materials that I would recognise. The walls where made of the sandy dirty—that blended into the floor of the same colour.

It was a circle—one big circle that blended with the roof and the floor. Red and white stripes were painted in the same circles—only smaller.

"Oh, _god."_

Marion's outburst voiced exactly what we were all thinking.

This was a goddamn arena.

**xXxXx**

**Well, crappers. **

**Please review. **

**G **


	17. For a God

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

"Well, great." I said, before I could stop myself.

Sawyer didn't appear to be in a mood to deal with that, and pointed the gun at me. I held my hands up in front of me—sealing my lips shut. Sawyer seemed to recognise that, roll his eyes and pulled the gun away.

"Wait—what do we do here?"

Sawyer didn't get nearly as annoyed with Mutt as he had with me. In fact, it seemed he shared the state of mind. He looked confusedly around.

"Roberts?" He appealed to my grandfather for help.

Franklin had made his way to my side, pressing the rings into my hands. I quickly slipped them onto my finger.

Franklin looked just as confused as the rest of us—his hands outstretched as he wavered. Indy and Marion, who came through the door after all of us, looked just as bewildered. Indy closed the door.

The sand particles flew.

Mutt and Indy swore in unison.

I flinched and spun around—watching as a concentrated cloud of the sand flew around me. I followed it with wide eyes, holding my hands up to cover my face from the stray particles. Five other similar clouds followed the others—as they reacted in the same way as I did.

I was unprepared, however, for Sawyer's reaction.

Frantically, he lifted the gun and shot at the cloud that followed him. As was to be expected by any _sane_ person, the bullets went through the sand and towards the other, less indestructible people in the room.

I heard the shout of pain—but couldn't distinguish who had shouted. I swore, stilling in my hysterical turns to try and see through the thickened sand.

Nothing.

I heard Mutt shout out to see who had been shot—while I yelled in the direction I had last seen Sawyer.

"STOP BLOODY SHOOTING."

I was rewarded with a bullet that flew right by my head. I shrieked and went down—curling into a ball on the floor. Mutt must have recognised that it was me this time and let out a shout of anger.

Not that he could do anything about it. None of us could.

Instead, we helplessly went where the sand herded us. I watched as I moved with the sand. I couldn't stand where I wanted to—the sand moving so fast that it stung when it touched me. I crawled-moving over ground that looked identical.

Then it stopped, and my feet remained where the sand had put me.

I stood shakily to my feet—totally confused. The sand fell where it had stopped—but it took me a moment to distinguish where I was.

"Kat?"

I was standing on a podium. A large, circular pole that some out from the ground, made from the same sand that had recently encased us all.

"Uh..."

I looked around. The platform stood in the middle of the room, and was at least three metres off the ground—and only really about the size of a chair base. I stood, incredulously, at my own feet. Around me, everyone else was on the ground, evenly spaced in a circle.

Except for one space—where the sand still spun.

"Marion!"

Indy's shout drew the attention away from me and my predicament. It soon became clear what was going on.

Marion was the one who had received Sawyer's bullet. She was bent over, in her own spot, clutching her arm—the left arm of her clothes were soaked entirely in her blood. Tears streamed down the side of her faced, but she didn't look like she was crying.

In fact, if I were just looking at her face, I would have thought she was totally, totally fine.

Indy was at her side in seconds, staring at her, confused.

"It'll be okay, sweetheart. I know it hurts—you're okay."

Marion looked at him in confusion. "This is what a gunshot wound feels like?" she asked, frowning.

Indy hesitated.

"You _baby." _

We were all silent for a moment. Even Sawyer paused in his momentary loss of sanity to look at Marion oddly.

"Uh—what?" Indy quickly asked.

"This doesn't hurt at all." Marino declared. "Are you telling me that all those times you got shot and I fawned over you because I thought you were in so much pain—you were only going through _this?"_

Mutt frowned. "Uh... mum?"

Aside from Indy, none of us had moved from the spots where the sand had placed us. Me, more so because there was no plausible way of getting down—but the others stood still too, as though the sand might object to their moving.

Mutt seemed like the closest to moving now—his feet literally twitching in anticipation of getting out of there.

"What?" Indy enquired. "You mean it doesn't hurt?"

Marion scoffed. "Only about as much as a needle."

I hadn't been shot in my entire life and I knew that that was wrong.

"Pain does not exist in this room."

We all jumped. Sawyer's gun went off. Irritated by the noise, the naked man who had appeared out of nowhere moved his hand in Sawyer's direction. We all watched in shock as the gun flew harmlessly out of sawyer's hand, disintegrating into sand mid-flight. The sand that it became then joined the wall.

Sawyer whimpered slightly.

The naked—and I mean _naked—_man looked to Indy.

"You have moved from your position. If you do not return, this will be seen as an effort to cheat and you will be disqualified."

None of us were anxious to see what disqualification was—but for a moment Indy didn't move. Obviously, he wasn't keen to leave his wife.

The naked man quirked an eyebrow.

Indy, seemingly understanding, nodded his head—and returned to the exact spot where the sand had placed him.

"What—what is this?" Mutt demanded. "Who are you?"

I looked to the naked man—holding a hand up to avoid seeing certain areas—awaiting his answer.

"My name is Artemis," he said.

Franklin was intrigued. "Artemis is traditionally depicted as a woman, you see," he said excitedly, "the twin _sister _of Apollo. It is interesting to see that the stories we hear of the Greek gods are so changed and _inaccurate—"_

Artemis didn't seem pleased with him.

"Foolish man," he declared—effectively stopping Franklin talking. "I am not a god. I am _named_ for the God of the hunt."

I swallowed.

Sawyer was smirking widely. "Obviously, Franklin." He said with wide eyes.

"Silence." Artemis ordered, and Sawyer snapped his mouth shut and wiped his face clean of any trace of amusement. It was almost enough to compel me to laugh.

"Wait—what do you want? What do you mean _disqualified?_ Why isn't my mum in any pain?" Mutt asked his questions quickly.

Artemis examined him for a moment.

"I am the champion of the Salvaators." He declared loudly. "And this is the final test. The woman feels no pain because it has been taken from her."

I had just enough time to wonder why they would have taken the pain from her if this was a test, before Artemis continued speaking, and effectively answered it.

"It has been taken from all except one—in your party." He continued. "And placed into your champion."

Right—so everyone's pain had been taken and put into one person? That obviously meant that one of us would feel pain to the normal point, only multiplied by six.

"Your champion has been selected—the strongest of you all. We will battle, and the victor will have the rings, and their holder."

The rings glowed bright on my finger. I looked at them in horror.

What?

"What?" Mutt echoed. He looked from the naked man from me. "Oh no—there will be no having of holders."

Artemis ignored him.

"Step forward champion."

I reached to my other arm—pinching myself slightly. Nothing. No pain. I was obviously not the champion anyway—I was the ring bearer, it seemed. I watched as everyone else completed the same test—and felt my heart sink as Mutt pinched his arm and the recoiled in pain.

"Oh—damnit."

I seemed to have an advantageous view point from my spot on my platform. The others stood on the ground, and I could clearly see their reaction to Mutt's revelation.

"Oh—Mutt—no!" Marion shouted, while Indy shook his head.

Mutt cleared his throat and shifted his position.

"And, uh... what if I, uh... don't wanna fight you?"

Artemis looked confused. "It is a necessity, should you want to pass. I possess the fourth and final key. It is that key—combined with three others that will open the final door. Without it, you will not go beyond this point."

And there it was, resting on his ring finger. His was different to mine. It was as plain as a gold wedding band—only bright red—as though someone had left it in the fire for too long and it hadn't yet had the chance to cool.

Mutt nodded. "So if I don't want to pass, do we have to do this little fight?"

Sawyer hissed his protests, but was silent when Artemis looked at him. He pulled a face like a scolded boy. As soon as Artemis's attentions returned to Mutt, however, his face of authority returned and he made it entirely clear to Mutt that that was not an option.

It wouldn't have been an option anyway, we all decided following Artemis's response.

"Then you forfeit and the tournament is mine. I will keep the rings and have the holder."

Franklin shouted out his protests, stepping off the podium. Quicker than before, Artemis reacted, swing his arm in Franklin's direction. I let out my own shout, but watched as Franklin became silent.

His mouth was still moving. He lifted a frantic hand to his throat to feel for his silences vocal chords.

I swallowed.

Mutt did the same. He shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out the comb, once again running it through his greased locks. The comb pulled everything into it's neat place and he stowed the comb. He shrugged of the jacket, and let it fall to the floor—standing now in only his white shirt and dark black jeans.

"Right then. Let's do this fight."

He charged.

Artemis watched Mutt as he charged, bewildered for a moment. When Mutt reached him, Artemis finally seemed to recognise what was going on, and lifted his clenched hand. His fist collided with Mutt's jaw and sent him reeling back—high in the air and far into the far wall of the circular room.

Franklin looked like he wanted to say something. Indy understood and expanded for his son.

"Kid—this isn't a hand-to-hand combat arena. The challenger must dictate the rules of combat."

Mutt groaned, pressing a hand to his now bleeding lip.

Artemis nodded. "The old man is correct. Step forward, and select your tool."

With a wave of his hand, the sand in the middle of the room rose—forming a table, and the objects on top. Again, I could see the best from my high point—and watched as a spear, a dagger and a bow, arrow and rope appeared on the table.

"If these do not suit you—then request for your weapon. You may use anything and everything."

Mutt swallowed and stepped forward to the table, his hand patting his hair—messed up from the fall—back down.

"Uh..." he looked at the table for a minute. "I'm good with this." He reached forward and grabbed the dagger off the table. He weighed it in his hand for a moment, and smiled, stepping back. "Do we do this thing now?"

Artemis smiled—an expression that sent shivers down my spine. I vaguely noticed the scratching beginning again—this time from every wall of the large arena.

"I have chosen my weapon. When the hour glass starts, the battle will begin."

Mutt nodded. "Right," he said. "And when does it end?"

Artemis grinned. "When the other is dead."

Mutt swallowed for a moment, running the hand that didn't hold the heavy knife through his hair. He shifted from his left foot to his right, and then to his left again before nodding.

"Right then... uh—select your weapon?"

Artemis nodded solemnly. Walking to the table, he rested a hand on the sand and took a deep, audible breath.

There was a crack. Followed by more and more cracks that made me flinch in pain. Indy's eyes widened as he watched Artemis from his point—the closest to the table in the entire room.

"Mutt, step back."

Mutt looked at his father, alarmed. "Why—what's that noise?"

Indy looked at him, his wide eyes filled with worry. "Him. The cracks are coming from him. I think they're his bones."

A lot of things begun to happen at once then. First—the four of our companions who were not trapped three metres in the air, or as the group's champion began moving backwards—without moving their feet. The sand under their feet moved them back—until they hit the walls directly behind where they had stood.

Around them, boxes made from stand moulded themselves, and they became sudden spectators of the event.

More importantly, however, the scratching that had pursued us as we walked down the last room increased tenfold and I watched in horror as the walls began to move. Shapes began to push out of the sand—like something stuck behind a sheet. I inhaled sharply—as did Indy, Marion, Sawyer and my mute grandfather when they turned their heads to see what I saw.

The shapes took form—people trapped behind the sand moulded out of the walls and stood, waiting for the spectacle to begin.

_Beyond _our new spectators, I noticed that the most important change was the one that had held Mutt's horrified attention for this short time.

Artemis was in the middle of the room. At the base of the platform that I stood on, he was on all fours now, bending to the cracks and shifts of what I could only assume was his bones. Then he too, began to take form.

Hair on his hair grew faster than I'd ever seen hair grow—and his front arms were pressed against the floor and slowly turning grey. A tail appeared from his naked behind—and it split in two, and begun hissing.

I looked at Franklin, alarmed. He was mouthing something at me. I couldn't quite distinguish it.

The sound of the cracking stopped and Mutt swore.

I looked down to see the creature—A goat's head protruded from the shoulder of what I could only conclude was a lion—it's tail forming the head of a snake.

I looked back to Franklin.

"_Chimera." _

**xXxXx**

**I'm a sucker for cliff-hangers. **

**Please review. **

**G**


	18. Being Pegasus

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

Mutt's reaction was pretty much as was expected.

He let out a shout, as the transformation finished, and the snake tails flicked while the lion head roared.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa! Back up—BACK UP!"

He held his hands out in front of him, his knife in one hand but not in a fighting stance. No—at this point, Mutt was entirely on the defensive, backing away (almost scuttling) as the chimera advanced.

"Wait—Wait—WAIT! You didn't say that was in the rules! Did anyone hear him say that in the rules?" he demanded urgently, looking up at me.

I shrugged, entirely helpless. "He was a little vague."

Mutt gulped wordlessly at me for a moment, before looking back at the chimera. "Well—little hint for next time, buster._ Mythical creatures _aren't a weapon."

The chimera advanced. "I think you'll find that it is. I never said that transformations weren't options."

Mutt gaped for a moment.

"It just talked," he said frantically—most of his greaser attitude vanished in light of the new situation. "The monster just talked to me."

The chimera took another step forward and Mutt jumped, sticking the knife out in front of him—this time more threateningly.

"Whoa, there." He said urgently. "You stay back. Or... else?" Mutt looked around frantically again.

"The battle has not yet begun," Artemis dictated, gestured a lion paw at the sand that was now forming an hour glass. "We have about fifteen seconds."

Mutt let out a little shout and backed further away. "But—uh... can I chose a new weapon?"

The goat head let out a bleat, and shook it's head in negative.

Mutt moaned slightly, then backed further away around the circle.

At this point, the chimera was almost completely beneath me. It seemed my height, and position in the room made it evident to the challengers that I was the prize, while also keeping me from harm's way.

"You are not yet prepared for battle, champion," Artemis deduced, looking at Mutt.

Mutt looked at the completely useless knife in his hand. "Yeah, no kidding."

For the first time in my life, I observed what a confused chimera looked like. Every single one of its four faces—the lion, the goat and the two snakes—looked at Mutt oddly.

"Shall the arena prepare you?"

Mutt relaxed. "Yes—please."

He stood straight, looking up at me proudly. "Now, at least, this fight will be a little more evenly matched, doll—you'll be okay."

I smiled at him, but my attention was quickly drawn by the sand that begun to form around him. It seemed gentler than the controlled sand we had previously encountered. It pulled at his white shirt—pulling it out from where it had been tucked into his jeans.

"Hey—hey—hey—what's going on?"

He swatted at the sand, and it recoiled—acting oddly like Sawyer had when his gun had been taken.

Artemis frowned.

"You are clothed. We do not fight this way."

I blushed when I realised exactly what Artemis meant by 'prepared.' Obviously, Artemis had been naked when we entered—it seemed that they wanted Mutt to be in that state as well.

Mutt came to the same conclusion as soon as I did.

"Uh—NO. No—no—no—no. I will be fighting—_fully clothed."_

Artemis looked confused—and shrugged (another first for me, considering he was a chimera.)

The hour glass turned.

The chimera launched.

Mutt shouted in alarm.

As Mutt rolled out of the way—narrowly avoiding a swipe of the lion claw that could easily kill him—I turned and looked urgently to Indy. Franklin was a mute—he couldn't help us now.

"What do I tell him?" I demanded, shouting.

Indy looked on helplessly. Marion had forgotten her arm altogether now—and was only focusing on her son as he dodged the advancing creature. Her attention gave him another set of eyes and every time she yelled an instruction he obeyed instantly. In this case, her advice seemed to be the only thing keeping Mutt alive.

"I don't know much about Greek Mythology." He looked at Franklin. "That was always _you_r specialty."

That would do us no good.

I turned back to the battle to see Mutt at the base of my pole—darting around it. The Chimera walked right towards him, and lifted a paw to hit him. In the narrowest second Mutt moved, darting out of the way and out of his reach—and the paw hit the pole—sending send flying.

Franklin couldn't speak.

There was no way that I could get any sort of information to Mutt that would help him. I didn't know anything beyond what my ninth grade ancient history class—in which we had studied the mythological creatures for a grand total of one day. Indy didn't know much more than me—and Marion was far too focused on helping her son in the immediate moment.

Unless...

"SAWYER." I shouted. "WHAT DOES HE DO?"

Sawyer looked confused that I was asking for his help. "You want my help, Katerina?" He echoed, incredulously.

Jeez, no wonder Franklin replaced this guy.

"YES. You know about Ancient Greece. Who defeated the chimera?"

Sawyer was silent for a moment.

"Sorry, Miss Roberts—am I correct in assuming that you legitimately need my help in assisting your boyfriend, over there?"

I wanted to throw something at him. One thing was for sure, if Mutt did die, then the only upside would be the burning death that Sawyer would experience (along with my family and friends, while I became a possession for a shape shifting naked guy, but that was irrelevant.)

Whatever the case, I could have screamed. Since that probably wouldn't have helped the situation, however, I refrained and simply shook my head.

"Mr. Sawyer, it's not me that needs our help. You heard Artemis—if Mutt doesn't win this thing, we're all done for—so I'd _strongly _suggest you find a way to help him."

Sawyer seemed to have forgotten that point until that moment. His eyes widened as the realisation hit him and he jumped into action.

"According to mythology, the chimera was defeated by Bellerophon on the back of Pegasus—that is to say, Bellerophon defeated him whilst riding Pegasus—the creature was not defeated on the back of Peg—"

I hurried him along with urgent hand gestures.

"Yes—right. Well, Bellerophon rode on the back of Pegasus and shot arrows at the chimera from above."

Above.

I was above.

I didn't have any arrows—though.

"Does it have any weak spots?" I asked, while scanning the ground.

Sawyer nodded his head. 'Uhm... yes, it does. It can't fly.'

I looked at Sawyer incredulously. "That's it? That's its weakness? _Mutt can't fly either!" _

"DUCK!"

I stopped talking to Sawyer for a moment, distracted by Marion's shout. Mutt did as he was instructed and ducked, as the chimera flew over his head. The snakes—that anticipated his sudden move—lashed out at him and he only narrowly got away.

He ran in the other direction, while the Chimera turned around and pulled out the knife.

"No. MUTT. Don't! Just' focus on the _defence!" _Marion ordered.

Mutt smirked slightly, completely out of breath and despite the moment I couldn't help but get short of breath myself just watching him.

"Not this time, Ma," he said with a grin.

The Chimera pounced for a second time. Instead of just ducking, Mutt moved slightly to the side—avoiding the sharp lion talons and lashing out with his own dagger.

The two snake heads fell to the ground with a quiet thump.

Mutt collected himself while the Chimera cried out in pain—I looked back to the grounds and only just noticed the bow and arrow—with rope tied around the bottom—that Mutt hadn't chosen sitting where the table had sunk into the sand.

Indy noticed it too.

"Kitty!" He shouted, as he looked from me, to Mutt, to the bow, to the Chimera. "How much do you weigh?"

I looked at him as though he was insane. Marion—who didn't take her eyes off Mutt—hesitated slightly, frowning. Both Franklin and Sawyer turned amusing incredulous looks to him.

"Is _now_ really the time?" Sawyer demanded.

Indy ignored him.

"Just tell me, Kitty."

I told him quickly, hoping that Mutt didn't hear over the noise.

"Really doll? You feel heavier than that?" he quipped while dodging the newly enraged Chimera.

I shot him a look that he missed, on account of being our champion.

Indy was doing some quick calculations in his head. He turned to Marion. "And Mutt weighs what?" he asked.

Despite Mutt's shout of protest, she answered and I grinned.

"Really, Mutt? You look lighter than that."

When Mutt hesitated to glare at me, I definitely noticed. He dropped it quickly, though, so that he could evade the angry beast.

Indy continued to think.

"How steady is the platform?" Indy asked.

I checked it out by jumping up and down on it, and kicking the top. It didn't waver—and the sand that had been displaced when the Chimera had swiped at it had been instantly replaced.

I told him this and Indy nodded, my answer sealing his plan.

"Kitty, I'm going to tell you to do something. And if you follow me exactly, we'll be able to get out of this."

I swallowed, but nodded.

"Now—the chimera isn't interested in you," Indy quickly told me. "You're the prize—Mutt is the means to gaining that prize. He will not harm you. You're a cheer leader, correct?"

Not anymore, I wanted to tell him—but now wasn't the time for reputations. So I just nodded my head.

Indy nodded—adding this to his plan.

"Right. Kitty, I need you to bend over on the pole—so that your hands a far down enough for you to catch Mutt if he jumps. If you use your legs and waist as a balance—you should be able to stay stable long enough for Mutt to do his part—can you do that for me?"

I nodded.

"Don't do it yet!" Indy shouted, just as I begun to move. I froze and nodded.

He looked to Mutt, who was hiding at the base of the pole again.

"Mutt. You need to get that rope, bow and arrow to Kitty. _Now."_

Mutt recognised that Indy had some sort of ingenious plan and nodded. Reaching around the pole he grasped all of the things Indy had told him to, and tossed it into the air—before the Chimera pounced and he scarpered again.

I caught the rope out of the air—but the bow and arrow fell back to the ground with a clatter.

I looked at Indy urgently.

"Leave it." He said, "it's not that important. Kitty—tie one end of the rope around your foot, and throw the other end to me. Make sure you tie it perfectly."

I did so quickly, using one of the special notes that my father had taught me before he died.

I threw the rope in Indy's direction and it fell short. The sand box that Indy was encased in was not something Indy could do anything about, and he therefore couldn't get it himself. I reeled it back in.

"You're going to need a weight, of some sort—to make sure it reaches me."

In one of my smarter moments, I realised that the ridiculously shoes I was still wearing were perfect for that job. I quickly tied the other end around my left shoe, and tossed it at Indy.

Because I'd tied it at both ends, the rope was slightly shorter. It got to him after another attempt—and only barely.

"Don't worry," Indy said—"the tighter the better. Now try to climb down like I told you. You're doing well..."

I nodded.

It took me a couple of seconds—Mutt didn't have the time for me to be hesitant—to figure out exactly how I could do that—get in that specific position with so little space for my feet to move. I ended up standing on the very edge and jumping, pulling my shins up and landing, on my knees—on the platform.

From there, I used my hands to shuffle backwards—hanging my legs over the side of the sand. Because it was only sand, it rubbed away as I moved, but the structure itself felt as stable as a building.

I reached over, so that my stomach pressed against the other side and reached down, my arms outstretched.

"Is this far enough?" I checked.

Indy nodded, "that's perfect, stay there."

I nodded.

"Mutt—" Indy caught his son's attention, even though it wasn't probably the best idea at this juncture. "Look at Kitty. You heard what Sawyer said. Can you do it?"

Mutt understood instantly, and nodded.

It took me a little longer. I thought back to what Sawyer had said—now that Franklin was unable. Bellerophon defeated the Chimera from the sky. With a bow and arrow. The bow and arrow were beneath me. I was in the air—I was high.

I knew what I had to do.

Indy looked at me. "Can you do it, Kitty?"

I swallowed, and nodded.

**xXxXx**

**So you've probably guessed what's going to happen now. I don't particularly like the way I wrote this—to me it feels like I've made Kitty not care about what's happening to Mutt—and she's a bit too impartial to the chimera in my mind. **

**I just want to assure you (with the Mutt part) that in that situation, she's recognised that she needs to do something to get him out of there. **

**She's still worried about him. I just didn't focus on it so much. :P :P **

**Please review—I've already finished the next chapter, so, to make up for the wait between this chapter and the last, I'll try to get the No. 19 up ASAP. **

**G**


	19. Flying High

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

_New York, America, 14__th__ February, 1954_

"HOW CAN PEOPLE NOT THINK THESE THINGS ARE AWESOME!" I demanded over the howling wind, grinning at Nancy.

She squinted at me. We were both having relative difficulty keeping our eyes wide open. The wind was blowing hard enough that it stung. I stood on the ground, my cheerleading uniform proudly shouting out to those in the crowd that no matter what they thought, the boys out there, playing the game for us, were ours and ours only.

But seriously. What was the issue? Games like these were really just excuses to show my school pride, all the while watching cute boys in shorts running around. Sure the fog was bad enough that we couldn't really distinguish who was who—but they were our team, and they were doing well.

Nancy shook her head and shrugged. "I HAVE NO IDEA. CAN YOU SEE SCOTTIE?"

I scowled at her.

"It's SCOTT!" I corrected her. I hated that nick name: it made me feel as though I was dating a fourth grader.

Nancy shot me a look, but I pretended to miss it.

"HE'S JUST OVER THERE!" I shouted.

And there he was. Carrying the ball close to his chest, Scott dodged the oncoming team players—and was making his way quickly to the end of the field.

On my other side, Karen frowned in confusion. "I THOUGHT THAT WAS HIM." She pointed to the other side of the field, at the boy who was standing absently by while his team members run to help the forward.

I shot her a look. Of course _that _wasn't Scott. Scott was a team player. He would never stand by.

"Really?" I said, frowning. "I thought that was Tony."

Karen flushed upon hearing her boyfriend's name.

I smirked.

"Well," Karen said hastily, "how can _you_ tell?"

I thought of Scott. He was upstanding—he was strong, and brave and he loved me. He was my boyfriend and he was the guy who was going to win this match for his team and he was all mine.

"I just can."

I ignored Karen as she rolled her eyes, and instead trained my gaze on my boyfriend.

This was it.

The biggest, most important moment of my life. I watched with baited breath as Scott ran. Nancy gripped my hand tightly; her breathing had stopped as well. The pom poms in my hand were silent—I was holding them that still.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Scott held the ball to his chest, barrelling past the opposition. To the left—then a feint to the right—and ACROSS THE LINE.

It was instinctive.

The roar of applause from the crowd seemed to start a second after I had screamed. I leapt into the air, letting go of Nancy's hand and reaching up with her pom poms in one hand, and mine in other. Karen began to jump as well—lifting her pom poms into the air.

Nancy pushed me down.

"Jeez, you nosebleed," she admonished. "Give me my shakers."

I smirked, landing—and pushed them into her hands. I continued to scream however, and begun jumping up in down with Nancy.

"THEY DID IT! THEY DID IT!"

The horn that signified the end of the game sounded and I let out another shriek. Our team finished with at least double the score of the other team.

Our team players had gathered in the middle of the field, and in unison we all began running to him—the cheerleaders leading the swarm of fans who were flooding on to the field.

I watched with a grin on my face as Scott was pulled into the air, and I couldn't help but grin at Nancy. And she thought my boyfriend—_the captain—_wasn't participating.

_Bitch. _

"SC—OTT! SC—OTT!" they chanted.

I let out a grin.

"Get up there," Nancy urged. She tapped one of the players on the edge of their huddle and smiled.

"Want to put his girl up with him?" I said with a smile.

I found myself hoisted into the air in seconds, hands around my waist as I was passed into the middle of the circle. Scott saw me as soon as I was high enough and let out a roar.

"THAT'S MY GIRL!" he shouted to the crowds, and there was a whoop of glee from everyone around.

I was pushed close to him in seconds, and in his arms. He pressed his lips to mine in seconds and the roar of the crowd was louder again.

"The Head of the Football team, and the Head of the Cheerleaders!" They shouted.

I pulled away from Scott with a wide grin on my face.

"YOU WERE AMAZING!" I shouted to him.

Scott swung an arm around my waist, and I ignored the smell of a football player after a match. Instead, I clung onto his arm grinning at the ecstatic crowd. He reached out with his other hand and grabbed the trophy that was being passed to him.

He lifted into the air and let out a triumphant roar.

Then he turned to me.

"BABE, I AM AMAZING."

Hours later, after the after party had died down and Scott had passed out on my couch, I reached for the phone. Franklin had been called out and not come home—which was annoying. I honestly couldn't wait for my parents get home so that I could be rid of the old codger.

I lifted the phone to my ear and dialled the tone for my messages.

I had one.

"_Katerina... it's your Grandfather... I uh... something's happened. I need to speak with you—oh god." _

He broke off with a sob, and the message ended.

I rolled my eyes and hung up.

**xXxXx**

I felt the rope around my ankle tighten.

It was funny—to think, that I was about to either save or kill Mutt, and I was focusing on the rope burn around my foot. I vaguely wondered what Indy had done to my shoe.

Because that was it, wasn't it?

Not the shoe. The saving, or killing of the guy who I had recently (_very recently)_ decided to change my life for. A long term relationship with a greaser was rare enough. A long term relationship between a greaser and someone like me?

It was almost as unlikely as I would have thought a Chimera was only a couple of weeks ago.

But at this point in time, I was going to have Mutt in my arms—his entire fate in my hands. (Granted, it would also be in his hands—and if he messed up then there was absolutely nothing I could do, but if I messed up then it would be, undeniably, _my_ fault.)

So I held out my hands and waited for Mutt to execute his part of the plan.

Of course, that meant he had to get the perfect distance between him and his pursuer, who was, in this case, a mythological man made out of sand who had changed himself into a chimera.

"Are we good?" I asked, in reference to my foot.

Indy understood. "We're good."

In order for me to be able to fully hold Mutt's weight, I would need something weighing me down on the other side, to ensure that I didn't go falling onto my face, bring Mutt with me. Indy was providing that force.

Of course, that left everything up to my upper body strength.

It's a good thing I was always the base of the human pyramids.

"If I may interject," Sawyer voiced his thoughts sarcastically, "—What the _hell _are you do—?"

"KITTY!"

I shrieked, but held out my hands as Mutt ran at me. He stooped to grab the bow and arrow, faster than I'd ever seen anyone move, and jumped, spinning in mid-air so that it was his back that came towards me. He was already falling in a downward arc before he reached me. I moved almost instinctively, reaching out and grasping his shoulders. The material of his t-shirt slipped from his skin, but stayed in my fingers.

I lurched forward with him—the rope on my leg was the only thing that held us up.

Mutt didn't think about it. Instead, he knocked the arrow and pulled, letting it go before aiming.

The chimera—mid launch—was close enough that he didn't need to.

I watched as the arrow flew in slow motion, from Mutt's hands, and embedded itself in the chest of the chimera. It let out a yelp of pain and flailed—falling off course and landing on the ground.

I let go of Mutt.

Mutt fell to the ground and I collapsed against the pole. I looked away from where he fell and closed my eyes. The rope burn around my foot seemed worth it—but my arms felt as though they'd been ripped from their place. I heard movement, and opened my eyes—noticing with a heart attack that the Chimera was no longer in it's place

"Oh—god—it's alive?"

Mutt hastily looked to where the Chimera had been. Then he frowned—and reached out. Sure enough, in the shape of a Chimera that was fading fast enough for me to miss it—was the Chimera, now made from sand and sinking back into the particles.

"What—no—isn't that cheating?" Mutt demanded to the sand. "I call disqualification... _Disqualification!" _

"I am not dishonest."

Everyone in the room jumped at seeing Artemis rise out of the sand, his human form restored.

"You beat me. You used your given weapons and your environment and have deemed you and your companions worthy to pass."

In that second, it all seemed a little too easy.

"Do you think me dishonest?" Artemis continued.

I quickly reminded myself that we'd just fought a chimera. I clambered back onto the top of the pole and pushed myself to a shaky foot.

"Uh, no. No, uh.. sir." Mutt reassured him as he played with the back of his neck.

"The key bearer may descend."

I let out an embarrassing shriek as the sand began to sink into the ground as well—and I slowly came down. As soon as it was possible I was off it and in Mutt's arms—holding on for dear life.

I shook as I turned to face Artemis.

"Here is the fourth and final key, bearer." He told me, reaching to his own finger and placing it in my hand. "As soon as it leaves your finger, it will return to me, for the next visitor. As soon as it is no longer in your possession, you are not permitted to be inside the chamber. Is that understood?"

I nodded my head hastily.

He smiled.

"Spectators, be calm," he addressed the men in the walls. "Another round will come."

He began to walk towards them. As the boxes that contained the other four faded into the background, releasing them, Artemis walked forwards. When he came into contact with the wall, he too faded into sand and joined them.

"What the—what the hell is this?"

Mutt reached up to his head, and we all looked at him.

It was a wreath—made of olive branches. Mutt looked at it, with a frown, before stowing it in the leather jacket pocket that Indy handed back to him.

"Good job, kids," he rewarded us, giving me back my shoe. I slipped it back onto my foot, wincing. Indy looked to his son. "The wreath signifies your victory, junior." He said.

Mutt smirked, proudly, before pulling out his comb.

I rolled my eyes and looked away.

Franklin stood in front of me, his arms outstretched. I looked at him urgently, almost nervous to ask him to speak. Had Artemis not returned him his voice?

"You did well," Franklin then said—and I let out a loud sigh of relief.

Before he could say anything more, I pulled him into a hug. "I'm just glad that you gave me the rings when you did."

Franklin chuckled. "Yes, I'm not sure if Indiana's plan would have gone as well were it I that was required to hold his son up."

My arms ached, reminding me of the strain—but I brushed it off.

Stupidly, while we were all congratulating each other—me hugging Franklin, Indy watching amusedly as Marion smothered Mutt in her bosom (despite the blood slowly staining the strip of material Indy had used to strap her arm, she seemed to have forgotten all about it)—we failed to keep a note of Sawyer.

He lifted a gun—this one different to the one that had disintegrated. It seemed he had been carrying another. I noticed his left pant leg sitting oddly on the top of his black boot, and could only assume that it had been stored there.

"Get a move on," he urged, this time motivating me while pointing the gun at Franklin's head. Sawyer seemed to have noticed the power switch in the room—he had heard Artemis's instructions, after all.

If the rings came off my finger, we were all done for.

But of course, sticking a gun in Franklin's face was the right way to get me to do something for him.

I held my hands up defensively—as though it was me that the gun pointed at.

"I'm moving." I reassured him.

Mutt, Indy and Marion had sobered upon hearing the gun click. Glowering at Sawyer, they reluctantly followed me and Franklin as we approached a door none of us had noticed appear.

I took a deep breath before reaching for the handle—and pushed it open.

**xXxXx**

**Please review. Only a few more chapters to go. I'm sure you're getting sick of these 'the door opened aaannnnddd…' moments. :P **

**G**


	20. A Bright Light

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately enough, I don't own Indiana Jones—or anything else that you recognise. All original characters and the plot are mine, though some of the facts are really stone fact. **

**xXxXx**

The fourth ring was cold on my finger. It was chunkier than the other three—and I knew honestly I would be happy to see it gone when I took it off—when I _could_ take it off. I had worried about the other three rings—whether or not they'd make it through this adventure. I knew that at their core, they were ancient rings worth millions—but to me?

They were my mother's rings.

And if I could do anything, I would keep them as safe as possible.

At this point, however, it seemed like that may not be an option.

"Christ, what the hell?" Mutt muttered as we entered the room. Following that, only the sound of Indy cuffing Mutt over the back of the head (for using our Lord's name in vain) broke the sound of the even slightly _painful_ silence of the room ahead of us.

I clenched my hand into a fist, feeling comfort from the feel of the cold metal on my finger.

The dark of the room was so purely black that is almost hurt to look at it. It was the sort of sight that triggered terrible headaches and the inability to even remotely function. I pressed my fingers to my eyes, squeezing them shut to stop that feeling from continuing. For a moment, the diva in me expected Mutt to ask about it, before I realised that he couldn't see a thing.

Because none of us could see a thing. Even with the light of the last room on our backs none of it streamed past us. It was like parts of the room were impervious to light.

I rubbed my eyes again.

"Is this the right place?" Sawyer whispered. He sounded as lost as the rest of us now—and since he couldn't see I momentarily considered running him, but recalled that in his confusion, he tended to get a little trigger happy.

Of course, his question also indicated why he of all people had no right to be here, but Franklin, in his subtle wit, managed to emphasise this and also answer this question. "The most famous of all texts on Zeus's temple gives reference to how light can only be brought to those enlightened, Sawyer. Surely you remember?"

I heard a slight growl from Sawyer's direction, but he didn't say anything. Instead, I heard footsteps at his place. Indy quickly protested.

"No!" He urged. "Don't move."

The footsteps stopped.

"What?" Sawyer demanded instantly, sounding far more on guard now. "Why?"

Indy swallowed. "There's a reason that people are scared of the dark." Indy followed ominously.

I gulped, and I heard someone shuffle their feet slightly. In the silence, it was easy to hear movements even like that. I wondered momentarily if that ability was all to do with the silence—or maybe another manifestation of abilities that Artemis had talked about.

Speaking of, I could now hear Marion, letting out a soft sound of pain every few seconds. It appeared that walking through the door had brought an end to whatever mojo that had been keeping her from feeling the pain. Now that she could feel it, she was probably far closer to fainting on us than she had been.

And then we had to factor in the blood loss.

Everyone seemed to have noticed, and Indy made a point. "Sawyer," he appealed to the man who remained in charge. "We need to do this quickly—she's losing a lot of blood."

Sawyer snorted.

"Think about the discovery we're about to make, Dr. Jones." He said, amusement colouring his tone. "I think it's worth a sacrifice."

I felt compelled to go and punch him in the face, and the scuffle and sounds to my left indicated that Mutt had the same ideas. It seemed someone had held him back—probably Indy—and managed to calm him down.

"We'd like to avoid that, if possible." I hissed through clenched teeth.

Sawyer ignored me. "Franklin," he demanded of my grandfather. "What do your books say we do next?"

Franklin cleared his throat. "We've followed the path—as the inscriptions found at the Labours of Hercules dictated. But as the figure—Artemis—said, we haven't reached the end. I think the best thing to do it move—in some sort of organized fashion, and find the end of that path."

They were vague suggestions, at their best. But I figured that everything else we'd seen so far—concerning the path itself—could be explained by some sort of mechanism. And while I'd been shocked and surprised to find a sand/man/chimera, I was quite sure that Franklin assumed there'd be another sort of physical mechanism to unlock this next part.

Everyone moved to walk again, before we were once again promptly stopped by Indy. "_Don't _move." He warned everyone. I didn't have much of a problem complying.

_There's a reason people are scared of the dark. _The memory of Indy's previous words made me shiver, so I tuned in when he stared to give proper instructions.

"Everyone, pair up." He said quickly. "Hold onto each other—places like these are full of booby traps and trapdoors and secret passageways."

I nodded (stupid, since no one could see me) and reached out my hand. It collided with the person nearest to me—whose hand quickly grasped mine back. I couldn't tell whose hand it was—and I considered attempting to figure it out through the feeling of their clothes before realising how awkward that would be if it were someone other than Franklin.

It might not have been as awkward as if it were Mutt—but can you just _imagine_ how quickly he'd turn it into something embarrassing.

Instead, I grasped the hand tighter and swallowed. Then, making the decision with an informed second squeeze of the hand, I moved forward, slowly. I held my other hand, my right hand, out to my side, and felt it instantly when my hand hit the cold stone of what I only assumed was a wall.

Or at least, it _better _have been a wall. I was so not in the mood for any more surprises. Not that I was sure I could still be adequately surprised.

"Oh—" I let out an odd noise when I felt the wall that echoed far louder than I'd intended. The hand tightened, and I quickly hastened to explain. "It's a wall," I said. "I found a wall."

It was disconcerting being in this dark. More than I could really explain. If I had been able to see, I would have at least been able to register a nod of the head of some sort of response. It appeared that the person who held my hand was interested, but silent. I had the strongest urge to ask who it was, before frowning slightly and deciding not to.

But my questions were quickly answered when I felt the body move to my other side and I heard Indy's distinct voice let out a breath as his hand hit where mine was.

"It feels like some sort of smooth stone," he mused, and I could hear the sound of his skin running across the smooth wall. "It's curved slightly, inwards, I would say—but I can't even tell if it's a wall. It feels almost completely intact—and we don't even know if it is a wall."

His observations were loud in my ear and for a moment I thought I'd hear the thoughts and opinions of the other couples in the room—all silently exploring themselves. But no one spoke—no one even commented. I noticed, with a chill of fear shooting down my spine, that I couldn't hear their footsteps any more.

"Uh, Indy? Where did everyone go?"

"Kitty?" He verified, shaking our joined hands slightly, once he remembered the situation and stopped his archaeological observations. "I thought you might have been Marion—hopefully she's with Franklin or Mutt…"

I hadn't thought of the other groups. I could only imagine if Mutt had ended up holding hands with Sawyer—that was a pairing that could create an escalated situation in any time or place. But here? In the pitch black where everyone's emotions were running high?

I only hoped we could find the light switch soon.

"Where is everyone?" I hissed quickly. "Why can't we hear them?"

Indy sighed—a noise that I could pick up instantly. How could I hear so much of Indy's movement—his breathing, even maybe the sound of his heart beating—and not the sounds of my friends walking around?

"I don't think that this dark is just because there aren't any windows, Kitty," he said softly.

_There's a reason that people are afraid of the dark. _I shivered slightly, and gripped his hand tighter.

"There's something odd about this wall," Indy was commenting. "It's almost indented in places—like there's a pattern, or lines or symbols engraved in the side. Can you feel them?"

I didn't drop his hand. Instead, I used my other hand to lift and analyse the wall myself. I felt the lines almost instantly, smooth juts in the otherwise smooth surface. I followed them with my fingers and jumped slightly when my finger suddenly slipped into a deeper indent.

Indy tensed instantly at my yelp. "What?" He demanded instantly. "What have you found?"

"An inlet," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "Or something like it. My finger is in it—I think I pressed something."

Indy swallowed—another sound that I heard with perfect clarity. "Take my hand to it," he said. "With your hand."

I did as he asked, dragging out joined hands up to the point where I'd foolishly explored with my fingers. His finger quickly joined mine in the small space and even when he was pressing down I refused to move. It could have had something else there, watching out for it.

"Now what?" I hissed urgently.

"Well," Indy sounded strained, as he thought. His voice sounded heavy as his mind spun through the many options I'm sure he had in his mind. "There's really only one option."

No one could see it, of course, by my face quickly melded into one of horror. With my mouth gaping (probably loud enough for Indy to hear it) and my eyes wide, I stared at the general point where I guessed that Indy was standing.

One?

There was only _one _option?

I shifted from foot to foot, making sure to not remove any pressure from the button that I'd pressed.

I then tried to say, "_Well, what is it?_"

Indy had pressed the button before I even got to the 'what'.

But by the time he'd done it, I already voiced my full and furious protests (by screaming bloody murder). I had, of course, taken note of all the other things that had occurred simultaneously.

With the heightened senses that came to see with the sheer blackness of the room and our official loss of sight, I could feel movement with what would almost be called hypersensitivity. So when the ground shifted beneath my feet, I let out another shriek and clung to Indy, ensuring that I didn't fall over but unable to do much more than that. The ground that moved pulled us forwards—almost into the wall.

From what Indy had told me, it was obvious that no one else would have heard my shrieks.

Except for Indy, who, as we suddenly stopped, hastened to get out of my grip and shushed me. "I'm an old man, sweetheart. Easy on the ears..."

I glowered at the area he thought he was standing in, but refused to let go of his hand. "You could have given me some warning." I said angrily.

"I could have."

Well, he was his son's father, I suppose.

He was already pulling at my hand when the thought whizzed through my head and I rolled my eyes but was anxious enough to get off the moving platform that I let him pull me along. Upwards, it seemed—as I felt the distinct shape of steps beneath my feet.

Wherever Indy had taken us, it certainly wasn't any lighter. But as we made our way up the stairs—a task that was surely doing wonders for the muscles in my legs, but would have me moaning and groaning with every movement tomorrow—I noted that this dark wasn't the type that would irritate eyes. It was more like this was the dark that came in sleep—it had me feeling nearly drowsy.

I was so focused on ignoring the desire to fall over, roll up into a ball and fall asleep that I didn't notice when Indy stopped and walked right into his back. When I almost lost my balance as a result, Indy almost _casually_ caught me and held me on the stairs.

"I can see what Mutt said about you being fragile," he commented lightly.

Were it visible, Indy would have surely noticed as I puffed up my chest in withheld fury, and watched as my cheeks turned what had to be an angry shade of puce. He did, of course, hear my angry intake of breath and before I could even let out any of the rude, well-worded insults that had welled up inside me, Indy was shushing me.

"Don't take it personally, Kitty," he advised me, again sounding almost nonchalant. I felt as though he even had his back to me, and I could hear his fingers running against the flat wall that had stopped our ascent. "I still worry about Marion getting into trouble—and I know she could very well take care of herself."

The fury abated slightly. Still, I was going to kick Mutt's ass.

The timid girl in me, however, ignored the fury for a second. "Really?" I asked in a small voice, before mentally kicking myself in the face.

Indy chuckled.

"Yeah, kid, really."

He seemed to decide that examining the block in front of him was more important than reassuring me that Mutt didn't really think I was some delicate—which it was, _duh—_and returned his full attention to the block.

"It's got the same sort of patterns as the block down stairs." He observed. "I think, if we passed through a wall downstairs, this is our doorway back to the other side."

My eyes widened, and though a lot of my attention was still focused on the fragile thing, I couldn't help but recall what we'd just done.

"Indy, we've walked up like, four flights of stairs. If we come out on the other side, we'll come out in the middle of the air." I pointed out.

Indy didn't make a noise, so I assumed he was nodding and had just forgotten that I couldn't see it.

"I don't think so. We'll check it out. Help me find the button."

He pulled me forward, and lifted my hands to the wall. For a moment, we didn't speak, the only sounds we could hear being the abnormally loud sound of our hands brushing across stone. I felt the familiar patterns and, as I had down downstairs, ran my fingers along the lines until...

"Found it." Indy declared.

I pouted but stepped back. If I had found it, I would have at least been able to stall Indy for a moment, before he pushed us out of midair. Once again, before I could protest, he'd pressed down with his finger and the ground was shifting beneath us.

I shrieked, squeezed my eyes shut and let my fingers instinctively press into the carvings on the wall. The wall was moving out to my side like a door opening away from the person walking through. The inlets were deep enough that I might have been able to hold onto them and then get my footing back inside the—

"Kitty. We're not falling."

I had, obviously, noticed this by the time that Indy pointed it out. But by that stage, something else had happened. The blackness that I had seen behind my closed eyelids turned to a familiar burning red, and I knew that the lights had come back on without having to open my eyes.

I could also hear that we seemed to have found the others.

As Sawyer, Mutt and Marion all swore in unison, I listened gratefully to hear my grandfather speak again. "_By Jove!" _he exclaimed, and I didn't even have it in me to be amused by the expression. They were all _okay. _

I opened my eyes.

For a minute, the blinding whiteness of the room took me off guard and I had t wait for a moment for my vision to clear, but once I had.

_Good god_ it was worth it.

The door proved to be entirely disproportionate to the size of the room it kept. The roof was cavernously high, reaching a point that the light of our lanterns couldn't reach. The walls were stretched apart and wet—but we could only tell because of the glistening from the light, as no one was going to risk touching anything. The floor was stone—and old stone at that. It was covered in a layer of dirt and dust thick enough to form a cloud around our feet when it was disturbed.

But no one was paying attention to our feet.

Because this sheer _cavern_ was its enormous size for a reason. It was only so big so that it could it facilitate to the size of its giant occupant.

Sawyer's arm—the one that I could still see from where I stood, with which he held the gun—fell limp to his side. Franklin muttered a string of words that I'm sure were obscenities in his day and Indy used a slow arm to reach up and remove his hat.

For Mutt and me, who didn't care about the artefact (if you could call it that) as much as the others, we were simply astounded by its sheer bloody size.

No _wonder_ he was the king of the Gods.

The Statue of Zeus sat proudly in front of us, its gold glowing brighter than anything else in the room. I had just seen a man made of sand turn into a chimera and back, and yet I couldn't believe it. I should have been able to easily suspend my belief in rationality, but the logic in me pressed on, and told me that it must have been the result of exposure to lantern light after all this time.

He sat proudly on his throne, made of similarly glowing gold. The throne was raised on a white stone platform—that had decayed as much as you would expect everything to be. But then the statue itself looked as though it had been made only yesterday.

And, oh yeah, Indy and I were standing on an outlet in the high wall, at about his eye line. _"Why the hell am I always in high places?"_ I wanted to ask, but now really didn't seem like the time.

"I've found it." Sawyer breathed.

I could see from all the way up here as he dropped the gun to the ground. He clearly didn't care about us any longer. We'd gotten him where he needed to go and he had the prize now.

Mutt turned quickly and quietly, reaching the spot where he'd dropped the gun and snatching it from the ground. He moved back to Franklin's side (it looked like they'd been partnered together, while Marion had been left with Sawyer) looked ready to use it but didn't—as both our families had stepped forward with Sawyer.

"Franklin..." I sighed hopelessly, as he moved forwards in the same fashion as his nemesis. He looked to be a man under a trance the way he approached it.

Mutt cocked the gun and stepped forward cautiously towards his own parent, Marion, who was staring at the statue. Beside me, Indy was muttering to himself—as I'd recently learnt he did when something large happened.

"—It looks like it's got almost the exact dimensions that were recorded—it looks almost completely untouched—probably one of the ancient Greek acidic based preservation tools—it might have been placed on the statue—"

His rant fell to background as I focused on Sawyer. He was creeping forward slowly, whispering words in a language I didn't recognise, revering the statue in a way similar to the way I assumed Greek servants would.

I was just observing how foolish he looked, when I noticed Franklin behaving remarkably similar.

I rushed forward quickly, breaking the reverent silence we'd inadvertently created. "Franklin?" I called down.

My voice echoed through the entire house. Indy shushed me, but I'd caught the attention of my grandfather. He barely seemed able to look away, but when he finally turned his gaze to me, he looked at me with an expression of concern.

"Kat..." he said slowly.

Bringing attention to us, the other three heads down on the floor turned to us and their eyes widened again—something that I wouldn't have thought possible.

"What?" I asked quickly.

"The stone you're standing on," Franklin said staring at the bottom of the platform in horror. "Indiana—it say's _offering." _

**.:.**

**So, I'm a sucky author. **

**A really crappy, horrible author who doesn't deserve your attention or you as an audience. But finally, it's here. Chapter 20. I made it a little longer just to try and make up a little of it :S**

**Sorry guys. Please review. **

**G**


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